Frosted Stars
by Narnian Sprite
Summary: AND my title sounds like a breakfast cereal. Sequel to Desert Mirage, please read that one first or you shall be more lost than an American in the Beijing airport. OC alert. Read at your own discretion.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Me no own and you no sue, dooda, dooda...

A/N: As Mark Twain once said, "The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated." I am not dead, but I have been bogged down in the swamp that is eighteen credit hours' worth of homework, so... yeah. And I've been busy at work, so this has sort of taken a back burner. But I am here! And the sequel is here! And all is well! PLEASE visit my profile and follow the link to see the trailer for this fic that a friend of mine went to the great trouble of making. That would be amazing, thanks.

A note on the text: (yes, I HAVE taken too many lit courses...) This takes place quite a few years after the first fic in this series, _Desert Mirage_, and don't ask me to do that math, because I stink at it. I'm going with the idea that _**Revenge of the Fallen**_ happened as it did in the film, with the only main differences being that Sam/Mik were older, Jazz was still alive and there were a few more Autobots on Earth at the time. I think those are the only noteworthy differences, though.

_**Feed the starving authors! Leave a review!**_

Chapter One: Of Green Tile and Distant Stars

Every human held a cherished dream. From the day they learned to understand the world of possibilities around them to the day they left that world, each soul clung to an idealized future in which they would save lives as a fireman, out-shine the lights of Broadway or win the Olympic gold. Astrid had long since lost sight of her own dream, but as she stood in front of the cracked mirror in her green tiled bathroom, she knew that this had never been it.

It was a crummy little apartment she had procured for herself, she thought as she let her toothbrush droop from the corner of her mouth. But then, that was what one had to expect when living the life of a starving artist; two or three different jobs working the chorus for opera and musical productions did not make enough for her to live lavishly. It was barely enough for her to live at all.

It had been a full week since she'd seen a cockroach, though, so she reasoned she was doing fairly well.

But she needed to find another job. Any job. Minimum wage, busing tables, mucking out horse stalls (though those were hard to find in the city), anything. Although she had a decrepit little apartment all to herself, she had very little food or other necessities, like toiletries or gas money. Her poor car had been tucked away in a nearby garage for well over a month, and Astrid herself had been reduced to taking the bus. At least this car did not complain of the long hours in the dank cement labyrinth. Mirage would have.

But that was a subject she would prefer to forget. Forgetting was hard, though, she had found, when the scars of her old life were written across every inch of her skin. She had taken to avoiding mirrors because of the long, slim scar that curved along the side of her face. Barricade's caress. And there were others. Ever since her release from the hospital – even before she had separated from her guardian – she had worn long sleeves and long pants or skirts at all hours of the day, waking or sleeping, working or playing. No one would ever see those marks again, not even herself.

Only the cracked excuse for a looking glass in her apartment was safe to look in, and that only once or twice a day. In public restrooms she ducked her head and watched the water pour over her lathered hands. The last time she had been in a dressing room seemed ages ago. But she was conscious enough of herself without the aid of her reflection. She needed it to apply make-up and style her hair for her different roles, but that was all. It was a taboo item in her household. The other taboo item had been stashed away in the very bottom of her summer clothes drawer – the one she no longer needed now that she dressed like a leper.

The other item was the phone, the beautiful phone she'd been given as a Christmas present several years ago in another lifetime. That was the one remaining line of communication she had with the Autobots, and it hadn't been charged in over a year now. And all because of one stupid fight… or two… or three…

Things had never been calm and easy between her and Mirage, but when she began toeing the deep, dark pool of romance, things had gotten worse. Their last – and greatest – falling out had occurred several minutes after her declaration that she was going out on her very first date. The boy – there was little point denying that that was what he was, no one in their right mind would call him a man – had been a violinist working the in the pit for the local community theater musical. It was little more than bad timing that had led her to agreeing to the date, though. She couldn't even remember what Mirage had done to annoy her that week, but she remembered how mad she'd been, and the triumphant snake of victory that licked up her throat when she saw the flabbergasted look on his hologram's face when she told him.

He sneered.

She snapped.

He yelled.

She yelled.

Then he winked out of existence and sped off into the evening.

Two days later he had not returned, and Astrid lost her favorite coffee mug to the kitchen tiles as she watched the red eyed (_metal_) alien face offer humanity an ultimatum through her television screen. In an instant she'd snatched up her precious cell phone, the same one that was now left to decay in her bottom drawer, and called for Mirage. But there had been no answer.

For another two days she lived in mortal terror, wondering if the Autobots had failed, if the world would fall apart quite literally beneath her feet, if Mirage was dead. From the sanctuary of her bathroom floor she scoured the internet with her laptop. Never in life had she visited so many cheap, obviously fake alien fan sites. But then, she found a credible one, with real footage, and a different kind of terror filled her. She watched the flat, pixilated image of Mirage and several other Autobots driving off of an aircraft carrier in their alt forms, glanced at the date in the bottom-right corner, and wondered why – since he was clearly not dead – Mirage had not answered her calls.

In the sudden absence of suspended horror that she'd been living off of for the past few days, she felt the fear of rejection curl in her gut. Had she finally pushed one button too many? Was he sick of her? Had he left her for good this time? This wasn't a rare occurrence, Mirage speeding off and spending days, weeks or months in the field with the other Autobots, but this wasn't the normal situation. The world had nearly ended. There had been attacks all over the world and thousands had died. Was he really so angry with her that he didn't even care if she was still alive?

So she made a test, a way to save face if he no longer cared to continue their weird relationship, and a way to offer him a way out if he wanted it: she moved.

And he did not follow her.

And that was how she'd come to this. A life without purpose, without a dream, was a difficult thing to savor.

.O.O.O.

"We've reviewed your resume…"

Shut-up.

"And I've got to say we were surprised by the number of… qualifications you've got. Aside from management, I think you're the first college student to ever apply here. Times _have_ been really tough, though."

One word. Either yes or no – pick one.

"Is that a problem?" Astrid asked. It took a great deal more of her acting talent than it ought to have to keep the question from becoming a snarl.

"Of course not! The world could come to an end and we'd still have angels and demons pulling up on their clouds and lava. Nobody says no to a good burger and shake."

The idea of Soundwave and Ravage pulling up to this Sonic rip-off and ordering a number four was almost enough to make Astrid smile. Almost.

"The world isn't ending yet, though. And you've got a job."

"Really?" Astrid cast an eye over the manager lady's pink poodle skirt and tried to decide whether or not she was happy about landing the position.

"Really." Unaware of the sarcasm running behind her new employee's benign expression, the manager happily reached into the bin next to her and pulled out a fierce blue skirt with a fluffy white dog stitched near the hem. "Welcome to the Oasis Diner!"

In twenty-four hours the last bit of paperwork had been signed, a few hours of sleep had been stolen, and Astrid was back at the diner, with about thirty minutes of training and an obnoxiously bright poodle skirt under her belt. For the next few weeks she would be the student of the high school kids that came and went from the work schedule posted on the slick, brown wall tiles.

She tried to argue with herself that it could be worse. Much, much worse.

Another pair of hands appeared next to hers in the sink, and Astrid glanced sideways to receive an eyeful of black. Black hair, black shirt, black nails, black liner. The slight smile on the plain, unpainted lips came as a bit of a surprise.

"Hi."

Astrid blinked. "Hi."

Tattoos were everywhere, some dark – clearly real – and others half-faded and brown, probably henna.

The girl beside her wiped her hands down her black jeans and offered a half-cocked smirk. "My name's Jess. You the newb?"

"Yeah," Astrid snatched a paper towel to dry her own hands. "Nice to meet you.

"Likewise. What's your name?"

"Astrid."

"Like the flower? Cool."

Lips puckered, Astrid leaned back against the sink and watched as Jess darted off into the staff bathroom at the back of the kitchen. In under a minute she was back, turned from emo-goth to dark-tinged fifties girl in a skirt yellow enough to blind older patrons. As she tied her dyed hair up in a matching yellow ribbon, she said, "I'm in charge of training you. Hope you don't mind being put under a kid like me."

"Oh, no, it's fine," said Astrid. "How old are you, anyway? You don't look like a high schooler."

"Good reason for that: I'm not. Sophomore in college." With a quick jerk, she finished the bow over the ponytail. "How old are you? Turnabout is fair play."

"Twenty-three. It seems like ages since I was in college."

Jess sat down on the diner's one kitchen chair and fished a pair of white roller skates out from under the counter. "Well, maybe hanging out with us young'uns'll make you feel springy again."

Astrid touched her shoulder, where the scar from Barricade's claw marbled her skin. "Maybe."

Laces tied and skates secure, Jess popped to her feet and clapped her hands. "Alright! Let's get started."

.O.O.O.

One by one, the base's hall lights blinked off. They would stay aglow all night in some portions of NEST headquarters, but in the residential sections they always winked off at hours conducive to human recharge. Mirage thought it was stupid.

The humans that had semi-permanent quarters on base had rooms to themselves, and the doors to such rooms were more than thick enough and well enough fitted to block out any and all light from the halls. It was also easy enough to turn off the lights in the barracks for more temporary visitors. Why did the Autobots have to be bothered with the human 'sleep' cycle? It was foolish and it was unnecessary, but Prime insisted that such a practice would not only help to understand their human companions and their needs, but might also help the humans see that they were willing to be flexible.

Prime could be flexible. Mirage just wanted the lights turned back on.

Any effort the Autobots made to integrate themselves into the humans' culture was a wasted effort. Only a few had even cleaved to their cause through the latest incident with the Fallen. And Matrix knew what would happen next to place their sanctuary on this planet in jeopardy. They had already suffered losses, both in personnel… and other things. Sick of the dark, Mirage turned from the silent hallways and made for the nearest exit.

Outside, the stars and moon were glowing, hot and cold. The moon, though brighter, did not hold his attention for long. Instead, the stars filled his optics and his processor, and he stood watching them burn with a quiet intensity. After seeing the massive spheres of power and flame up close he almost found the humans' descriptions of the stars as cold and 'twinkling' as insulting. Such terms were diminutive and ridiculous next to the raw power that the far stars displayed. But humans were ignorant like that. They were ignorant about the galaxies and the very Earth they inhabited, and they were ignorant of anything beyond their so-very-limited range of perception.

He was better off without her. _They_ were better off without _them_.

His internal com system was the first to alert him to his leader's presence, and the slight tremors in the dirt came second. Optimus Prime had always been a mech worthy of Mirage's respect, though they did not always see eye to eye on many issues, especially about the war that had swallowed them all. There was no mech alive, Autobot or Decepticon, for whom he held greater respect. Perhaps that was one of the greatest reasons why he had sided against the power of Megatron and his Decepticons.

Eventually, Prime came a halt beside the spy, and there was a hiss of hydraulics as he set his hands on his sides and leaned back to peer at the stars.

"They are always beautiful," he said, "no matter what planet one is on. The stars are always a reminder that everywhere there is beauty to be found in the universe." He paused. "And yet they seem different from the surface of every world. The atmosphere here is so thick it nearly veils them, but they are still lovely."

"Is there a point to this, sir?" said Mirage.

"Only if you think there ought to be." Mirage stiffened, and Optimus continued. "Ever since the battle over the Matrix of Leadership you have been _unlike_ yourself, Mirage, and we can all see it. I am worried for you. And for Astrid. Have you had no communication with her?"

"None," Mirage spat. "The phone is dead, and she clearly does not wish to be hunted."

"Are you so sure of this?" Optimus asked, more gently. "Humans are strange creatures, and according to many of the soldiers the females are even more erratic. Is it not possible that there was some miscommunication between you?"

"Of course. We miscommunicated when we agreed to your decision to pair us."

"Mirage…"

"Please do not, Optimus. There is nothing you can say that you haven't said before. I have made my decision, and I shall honor hers. Goodnight."

He stalked away, back to the base, and turned his back on the stars.

A/N: Like it? Hate it? Yes, there have been major changes, but did you really think I was gonna let those two have their butterflies and puppies forever? Really? I will try to update this fic AT LEAST every other week, though I make no promises. I would love to update it every week, but I'm not sure if my schedule would permit that. So... it's the regular deal: the more reviews there are, the fast I will try to update. I hope to hear from my old readers again! I miss you guys!


	2. Of Assistants and Chicken Patties

Disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue.

A/N: Here's a nice long chapter for my awesome readers! Hope you enjoy! If you keep up with the reviews, there's a chance I'll update next weekend instead of the weekend after. Sound good? Ok. Ta!

Chapter Two

If she heard one more replay of that fifties soundtrack played over the restaurant sound system, Astrid swore she would go mad. She had heard more repeats of Elvis's top hits and beep-boppin' girl groups chirping about their boyfriends than _anyone_ deserved to listen to in a _lifetime_. And she'd listened to the entire tape a total of fifty-two times in the past seven days. It was a nightmare.

Jess, however, seemed completely unfazed. So unfazed was she, that she found ample opportunity and wit to comment and speculate on the strange additions Astrid had added to her uniform.

"Long sleeves and leggings?" she asked. "Aren't you burning up? It's got to be over ninety out there."

"It's not so bad," Astrid said, shrugging. "I've gotten used to it."

"What, do you have a skin condition or something?"

"Something like that."

An obnoxiously loud blare from a car horn shook the cinderblocks in the walls, and with an exaggerated groan, Jess shoved off from the counter and rolled towards the door. "Stupid, impatient, demanding dorks…" she muttered as she picked up the tray Astrid had prepared for her. A moment later, Astrid heard her say through the microphone, "Here you are, two Tuesday specials, a malted shake and an extra large fry. Is there anything else I can do for you?" At just that moment, Astrid spied a diet pop left abandoned on the countertop and smacked her forehead.

Before the customers could get a chance to complain, she snatched up the drink and jogged out to the curb-side. The manager liked to keep her inside – apparently being covered from head to toe was somewhat unattractive – but the bearer of the pink poodle skirt wasn't in at the moment, and their motto was 'service first' after all…

She reached the door, burst through – and stopped.

Parked just there, next to one of the menu displays was a flashy new Camaro, one with a yellow paintjob and twin black racing stripes shooting from bumper to bumper.

Two young adults were seated in the front seats, a young man with more muscles than he seemed to realize and a worried expression and a frankly gorgeous young woman. While she didn't recognize the two passengers, the car was painfully familiar.

Then Jess's beaming face was blocking her line of sight, and Astrid tried to focus on her moving lips, "…so much. I don't know what I was thinking. It must've been _right there_. But, yeah, thanks. I'll be right in. Here you go, folks! Really sorry about that, but luckily my coworker is faster on the uptake than I am."

The car honked.

"Geez," Jess said, "thirsty much?"

"That wasn't - I mean I didn't - the horn's got – I mean…"

Astrid didn't stay to listen. She whirled and flew back into the safety of the kitchen, away from the invisible optics she could feel crawling over her. She didn't stop until she reached the tiny staff bathroom, where she locked the door and slid down to the floor that was littered with pieces of white confetti. Gradually a tremor worked through her limbs and she clutched her knees to her chest as she shook under the power of the terrible sobs. Each one threatened to shake her completely apart, and the tears that leaked down her cheeks were like her life's blood trickling away.

Sometime later, she didn't know how much later, she heard Jess tapping at the door. "Hey," she said. "You ok in there?" Astrid couldn't answer. "I don't mean to kick you out or anything, but I've really gotta pee, so if you don't mind…"

Trying to steady her breath, Astrid climbed back up the wall and tried to smear the tear tracks off her face. A very quick glance in the mirror proved to her that she'd succeeded in undoing all the good her make-up had done that morning. Keeping her face down, she unlocked the door and stepped out. Jess slipped in past her, and Astrid hurried over to the kitchen sink. For the next several minutes she tried to make herself look half-way presentable by bathing her face in freezing handfuls of icy tap water, and by the time Jess emerged she had begun to feel human again.

She looked out the window and sighed aloud. The car was gone.

Jess was beside her then, transformed once again into the emo-gothic loner she liked to dress as, and Astrid could see the discarded poodle skirt peeking through the top of the college student's backpack.

"You didn't answer me before, you know," Jess said, resting her elbow on the sink. "You alright?"

"I will be."

"Sure, I knew that. But I thought that maybe I could help you get 'alright' a little faster. You get off the same time I do, right? Which would be now?"

Astrid glanced at the clock. "Yeah."

"Well then come to my place for dinner. Of course, by my place I mean the university cafeteria, but it's chicken patty night, so it should be safe. I'd love to introduce you to my roommate, too. She's awesome."

"I'd love to, but…"

"But nothing. You're coming. Now change out of the fifties reject crap and let's get going. Dinner isn't served all night, you know."

.O.O.O.

It was a very small room that Jess led Astrid to, and it was only made all the smaller by the art paraphernalia littering the space. Jess marched in without knocking and reached instead for the light switch, which she flipped on and off to gain her roommate's attention. The roommate started and spun around, sending her painter's smock and gobs of paint flying.

"Evening, Kate."

Kate, the roommate, waved Jess off with her paintbrush – sending more paint flying – and turned back to her canvas (which filled nearly a third of the available space along with the easel it rested on). Walking around to stand beside the canvas, Jess said, "Oh, now, Kate, don't be rude. We have a guest." Kate remained silent, and Jess let her head fall forward with a dramatic flop. At long last, Kate acknowledged Jess's presence and roughly shoved the head (and hair) back up and out of her way. Her hands fluttered and snapped in a quick series of severe gestures.

"Sorry for blocking your light," Jess said, incorporating a few articles of sign into her answer, "but even crazy artists like you have to eat sometimes."

Kate shrugged and gave a quick answer with one hand before going back to her work and making it perfectly clear by her stance that she had no desire to be interrupted, for food or anything else. Jess also shrugged and came back to the door, snatching up a jacket on the way back.

"She's just being testy tonight," she said by way of apology. "She'll join us later, when she gets hungry."

"She's deaf," said Astrid.

"Yeah. Always has been. Is that a problem?"

"No, no, no. It's just…surprising."

Jess began leading the way back down the hall."We've gotten used to that. It's not as hard to live with her as you would think, though. The only time it's a problem is when she WANTS to ignore you, and then she has the best way of ignoring someone I've ever seen: she looks away. But she's a good roomie."

Music pulsed through the hallways, emptying out through the open doorways and mixing into a cacophonous medley of undecipherable rhythms, lyrics and notes. Country ballads contended with rap anthems while pop love songs blended with the soulful whine of R&B. A few girls were coming and going from the doors lining the hall – some with book bags, some with boys and some in towels with shower caddies. It had been a long time since Astrid had been in any place so lively, and she looked around with a retrospective fascination.

Each time a door opened, she half-expected to see Jenna step through, shouting some half-thought-out piece of sarcasm. But then Astrid would see that the girl walking towards her was just a stranger after all, and she would remember that Jenna was an entire world away.

.O.O.O.

All kids dreamed of growing up and getting to run with the big guys. But all kids also suffered in that horrible moment when they realized that in order to run, they must grow up themselves. Jenna had gotten that part of life out of the way when her campus exploded and she'd been pinned for an hour beneath a crushed sedan. For her, growing up had meant so much more than the loss of freedom and the mantle of responsibility: it had meant an awareness of death, and its omnipresent threat. She'd nearly been killed at least three times during the attack and the ensuing rescue, and she'd sat by what had almost become her best friend's deathbed. Of course, being a grown-up also came with its perks.

A few years ago Jenna would never have _dreamed_ of living on the far side of the world with a team of alien robots and soldier boys from across the globe. But she was. And it was cool. Unless Ratchet was having an off day, of course - which he was – and then she just wished that her life could go back to normal.

"_Where are those parts I ordered you to sort!?"_

Jenna took a breath, pulling all the air could into the pit of her belly, and let her arms and mind go limp as she practiced the Zen-like exercises the on-base shrink had taught her. Relax. Mind over emotion. Logic over reaction…

Her eyes drifted shut and her shoulders relaxed. It was important to keep a level head with her job. It would be handy to know exactly what her job _was_, of course, but puny underlings such as she were not privy to the workings of the high and mighty. But what was a name? A position without a title would smell as sour…

"_Jenna!"_

Her eyes popped open and all the air gathered so neatly over her diaphragm exploded out again. _"On the table by the west bay door, you old crank-brain!"_

"_Watch your language!"_

The ground was starting to leap and tremble beneath her feet, a sure sign that the medic was on the move. "I can use whatever kind of slagging language I want," she grumbled to herself. "I'm not a two-year-old."

"Oh, is that so? Then stop acting like one."

A massive metal foot sailed over Jenna's head, and she noted smugly as she looked up that he still hadn't gotten all the robin-egg-blue paint she had prayed at him out of all the crannies. "Nice color scheme, old timer."

"Prime might have forbidden me from stepping on you, but he has yet to outlaw – how do you humans put it? – punting."

"Love to see you try."

"I am sure you would, but you would not be so happy to feel me succeed."

"Oooo."

Oh, for the love of pete…Jenna physically winced. The sound of that voice haunted her dreams. So did the one which immediately followed it.

"Are the old married folks fightin' again?"

"Loothks like ith."

"I refuse to even attempt computing the impossibilities of the assumption that Jenna and I are 'married'," said Ratchet. "Now get out of my medbay before I give you a real reason to be here."

"But we ain't actually _in it_," Skids wheedled.

"Yeah, we're juthp in the door," said Mudflap.

"If you were anyone – _anyone_ – else, Mudflap, that lisp would be cute," said Jenna. "As it is..."

"Iths charmin', right?" he asked.

"I was thinking more along the lines of annoying, actually."

"Aw, Rathet's girl is _mean_."

One wrench slammed into the wall next to Mudflap's head and both of the twins went smoking off down the hall. They were annoying pests, but so long as she had someone of the appropriate size with her, Jenna found that the 'short' set of twins were not that difficult to get rid of. Only when she was alone did she have issues, such as the time they strung her up over the main hanger bay. Of course, Ratchet gave even better than she got, and the two rats found their afts literally welded to the hangar ceiling for a full forty-eight hours after that, but Jenna's pride was still sore over that encounter. But at least the taller set of twins ignored her for the most part. As Sunstreaker had so delicately stated it, she wasn't "their" human. It didn't take a genius to riddle out who _was_. The only reason Jenna was in her awkward position of 'civilian-liason/Ratchet's-henchie/ballgirl/tax-form-write-off' was because Astrid had taken off. From everything she'd heard and been told, Astrid had been the Autobot's first choice, since she was already in so deep, and since Prime had gone to the effort of 'grooming' her by sticking her with Mirage (who Jenna believed to be the most belligerent, egotistical snob she'd ever met). Jenna was just a convenient runner-up as it were.

But she didn't mind. Or at least that was what she told herself everyday when she woke up alone in her barracks room.

As usual, the medical wing had no shortage of visitors that day (why could these he-mechs never stay out of trouble for a full twenty-four hours?), and within fifteen minutes of the twins' departure Jenna and Ratchet had another visitor. But this one did not come looking for trouble.

Bumblebee's little 'antennae' twitched as Jenna caught sight of him, and with a squeal Ratchet's assistant launched herself across the bay. Ratchet looked on, wiping off a wrench, as the scout tried to disentangle himself from the delicate human limbs wrapped around his foot, but managed to keep the weapon in hand until Bee was ready to report.

"Sir."

"Bumblebee," Ratchet replied.

"Do you know the whereabouts of Mirage or Optimus?"

"You're using your voice?" Both mechs looked down at the little organic (who was still attached to Bee's leg). "Must be important."

"Yes."

"Optimus is in his 'office'," Ratchet nearly choked on the word, trying to justify the human word and the mess of space that belonged to his commander. "I do not know where Mirage is. More than likely he is on patrol, though. Perhaps Prowl might be of greater assistance."

"Thank you." The bot turned to leave, but Ratchet wasn't finished.

"May I ask why you need to know?"

"I saw…"

"Astrid." Again, the two mechs looked down at the human, but she did not have a joking face this time, and as they watched she slowly unwrapped herself and stepped away from the scout. "You saw Astrid. Where?"

"If she wanted any of us to know she would have contacted us," Ratchet said as gently as his gravelly voice would permit. He tried to reach out and scoop up the little human, but she side-stepped his grasping digits and continued to stare down Bee.

"Where?"

"Jenna…"

"You're going to tell Optimus, aren't you? And Mirage? Why should that slagger know when I can't?"

"Jenna."

"It isn't right! It isn't fair! _I'm_ her best friend! _I cared about her before she even met you!_"

Crouching down, Bee managed to stroke one finger down Jenna's arm before she flinched away. "You're right. It isn't fair. But it is necessary. We are trying to respect Astrid's wishes as well as we can, but for all we know she could still be a target for the Decepticons, and measures must be taken to keep track of her."

"I know that, but…" Jenna took a swipe at her nose and looked away towards the bay wall, where parts were still waiting to be organized. An unsteady breath and several blinks later and she had squared her shoulders. "I've got stuff to do. See you around, Bee."

Bumblebee looked to Ratchet, somewhat at a loss. Jenna was not his ward, and though it was not his duty to comfort her, he was responsible for inflicting the damage. Over their internal communications system, Ratchet said,_ I'll take care of her_. With a nod Bee left, and Ratchet went to where Jenna was vigorously tossing replacement parts in organized heaps.

.O.O.O.

The cafeteria teamed with life, both in the form of students and faculty picking up their meals from the line, and in the form of bacteria and half-dead meats broiling slowly in the serving steam. So many memories came back to Astrid as she tugged her plastic tray over the smooth metal bars, each step conjuring images of her days with Jenna and all the stunts they'd pulled during their four years of college. There were so many things they'd done back then, just because they could.

Astrid's eye fell on the long sleeves covering her to the wrists. Now there were so many things she didn't do, just because she couldn't.

"For the sake of your sanity, I hope you don't mind eating at a table of our own," said Jess. "You really don't want to eat with our usual crowd." Leaning closer, she whispered, "Braver souls have lost their appetites at the sight of my friends' table manners."

"Oh, it's no problem." Astrid plucked up her tray from the line and followed the student to a corner table. Once seated, she actually took the time to look at the food she'd been handed. The soggy chicken patty on its bed of over-cooked noodles and under-cooked tomato sauce failed to inspire.

"Bet ya didn't miss this part of school."

"That would be a pretty safe bet – yeah." A slick noodle slid limply off her fork, leaving a slimy trail over the prongs, and Astrid smiled.

"Hey, I should offer you crappy cafeteria food more often," Jess said, leaning back in chair. "That's the best smile I've seen on you since we met."

Suddenly Astrid felt the grin slip off her face like the spaghetti. The arrangement of faux-chicken and noodles on her plate was suddenly fascinating. As she pushed the ruined food around with her slimed fork, her loose hair fell across her eyes, acting as a natural shield – one which she had perfected the use of many months ago. Her hair was blond now, bleached to suit her employer's demand for blond chorus girls. The blue stripes had grown out some time ago. Funny how most young women rebelled by doing something strange with their hair; Astrid had rebelled by being normal.

"Dang, you're moodier than Kate," said Jess. "And speak of the devil, here she comes."

Astrid peeked up through her hair to see the artist approaching the table with a tray of her own and a scowl set firmly on her face. She plopped down beside her roommate and attacked her own mess of mutilated chicken and pasta with far more aggression than was necessary. Beside her, Jess sat quietly until Kate had taken out the brunt of her rage on the chicken before daring to start a conversation. With a quick flick of her wrist, she gained Kate's attention, and in a combination of sign and audible speech she said, "That was fast. Get stuck?"

Kate made one or two quick signs and returned to her meal, though she kept her head up and looked towards Astrid with the barest hint of curiosity.

"About time, you antisocial recluse," said Jess. "This is my coworker, Astrid, the one I tried to introduce you to earlier."

With a dismissive wave towards Jess, Kate finally acknowledged Astrid. She signed something, and Jess interpreted, "She's sorry for being rude, but she says I should know better than to try and distract her while she's painting. She says it's nice to meet you."

"Tell her it's nice to meet her, too."

Kate signed again.

"You already told her," said Jess. "She's a great lip-reader."

"Oh," Astrid blinked, "sorry. Was I rude?"

"Not at all," said Jess. "If she got offended every time somebody said that, she'd always be mad. And she isn't, usually, unless a painting isn't working out for her. What's wrong this time, Kate?"

Through a series of translations, Astrid picked up that Kate had been stumped by the lack of a model. Though she had photos they were all to 'old' and didn't seem to be 'fresh enough' for her to work with anymore. How a photo could be stale, Astrid had no idea.

It was a good meal, even though the three of them barely touched the food. Astrid couldn't remember how long it had been since she'd enjoyed a light-hearted conversation such as this. Had it been with Jenna? With Mirage? It was only the distant things she could remember, like the days after she first woke up in the hospital and had watched her friend growing closer to Ratchet. And she remembered the latter three of her school years with Mirage, back before things had become complicated, back when they were just fun.

Jess and Kate were there to keep her from lapsing into a pile of sharpened memories, though, and for a brief space, Astrid forgot them entirely. As they walked back outside again – after being ousted from the dining hall by the exhausted serving staff – Astrid looked up at the stars and fantasized that they were really diamonds, as they were in poetry, and not the life source of distant worlds. She took a deep breath of the hot, late-summer musk and adjusted the collar of her shirt as the cicadas screeched a night time symphony.

"Nice night," said Jess. "Wanna come back to the dorm for a bit? Kate wants to show you some of her work."

"Maybe some other time," said Astrid. "This has been fun, though."

"Then we'll have to do it again."

Kate cast her a wink and headed off, Jess followed her in a moment, lingering just long enough to say, "Our door's open if you want to visit. See ya around." And then she followed Kate to their room and left Astrid to make her way home.

A/N: TralalaBOOMbia, there is no SCHOOL today! Alright, you know the drill, people.

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alihag: Thank you for your review! I am so glad you like it! Hope to hear from you after you read this chapter! Hope it meets your standards!


	3. Of Police and Tats

Dislcaimer: Me no own, you no sue

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! I will try to get to them as soon as I can, but homework and work have to come first, I'm afraid. I meant to get this up last night, but the site wouldn't let me log in, so... yeah. Here it is!

Chapter Three: Of Police and Tats

Optimus pressed his broad hands flat on the 'desk' as he absorbed his scout's report. News of this kind was always a mixed blessing. Many of his illusions of humanity had been shattered when the girl had turned her back on his kind, and he knew that his were not the only ones. And yet they could not treat her in kind. It was because of them that she had been involved in their war, and because of them that she still bore the scars of her imprisonment. She had left them, but only a fool would write off Mirage's half of that affair, and what intelligent being wouldn't flee in the face of such terrors as she had seen? Justice rarely presented itself in simple black and white, and it was rarely ever fair. In the case of Astrid Fenner, it was neither.

"Have you informed her guardian?"

"Not yet. I thought it best to meet with you first, sir."

"Yes."

Optimus rose from his slouch over the table and reached for the nearest console. Tucked away in the memory of the computer was a growing file on their prodigal ally, and he was about to make it larger. "What were the circumstances of the sighting?"

"I was with Sam and Mikaela," Bee said, drawing himself up to report. "We stopped to purchase food for the humans, and Astrid Fenner was employed at the establishment… she did not seem… she was not herself, sir."

Optimus's processor ached. "She has not been herself for some time now."

"Of course, sir."

"Alert Mirage," said Optimus. "She is his charge, and it is his right and duty to know her situation. No other action is to be taken. If she wishes to return, it is Mirage's duty to offer a way back, and if she wishes to remain apart, then she is free to remain so."

"With all due respect, sir," said Bee, "Mirage has not done his duty since they fought. He has not acted on a single sighting of her, and I am beginning to doubt that he ever will."

"The nature of Mirage's relationship with the human does not allow easy communication or understanding between the two of them. We must give them time. Only if matters continue in this manner we will take action."

"Yes, sir."

.O.O.O.

Astrid jolted awake to the shrill announcement of her alarm clock. She tossed back her covers as she tried to stumble out of bed, but the second she put weight on her legs, she tumbled down on all fours.

For a second she couldn't breathe. The pain coiled up through her bones and choked her lungs, smothering her. Everything froze, and Astrid's flesh felt the sharp points of Barricade's claws tearing through muscle and snapping bone once again. Then the wave of pain passed and she could breathe again. But she didn't rise. The alarm kept screaming, but Astrid stayed there on her hands and knees, trying not to throw up.

These days were always the worst. Over time they had grown rarer and rarer, but they still clung on, like Barricade's curse. A few of the wounds had been tricky to heal, and they had never completely mended. The worst was the place in her left thigh where Barricade's claw had pinned her to the table; so many important muscles had been shredded by his attack that the doctors had been unable to completely restore all that was lost. Ratchet had nearly blown a fuse, he was so frustrated by his helplessness. The break in her right leg, though not as bad as the gash, had also left whispers of insecurity in the bone that haunted and ached within her to that day. Some mornings, like today, her old damage would remind her that it had not faded, and would bring her – quite literally – to her knees.

Eventually the nausea passed and Astrid rolled over onto her side, letting the cool, stubby carpet dig into her cheek. She could have lain there all day, but the alarm was still screaming over her head, and the last thing she wanted to hear that moment was anything resembling a siren. So she pulled herself up – slowly - and gingerly put pressure on her legs, being sure to test them a little at a time until she was certain they would hold her. Then she slapped off the clock.

She limped her way into the kitchenette eventually and called in sick to the diner. There was no way her legs could hold for an entire shift spent bending over a grill. Taking the job at all had been a bad idea, really, but she was glad she'd gotten it, anyway. Just not today. She had a performance that night with the opera company she'd joined, and if she had to choose which job she would rather lose, it would probably be the diner. Probably. Having her poor old car back in working order was a beautiful thing, and it was thanks to this new income that it was alive again, but she just couldn't go in today. Luckily, it was Jess that answered the phone.

"The wicked witch in pink is out," she said. "I'll tell her you've got the swine flu."

"I don't have the swine flu, Jess," said Astrid as she fished a cold pack out of the freezer.

"No, but she won't ask questions if I say you do."

"Yes she will. She'll just ask them to me when I'm back instead of you when you tell her."

"What _is_ wrong with you, anyway?"

Astrid sighed and fell back against the fridge as the freezer door shifted shut. "War wounds."

"Why can't I just tell her that?"

"Jess."

"Alright, so not swine flu or war wounds. Regular flu, then."

"Whatever."

"Cool. I'll see you in a few days, then, and don't forget that you can always come to the dorm. I think my roommie wants to hook you into modeling for her."

"I'll think about it. Goodbye, Jess."

"Bye."

And then Astrid went back to bed and tried to start the day over, starting at midnight.

.O.O.O.

_ThruuumthrooomboomThruuum…_ The nausea was back, and it had brought a friend – a migraine.

Astrid set her glass aside on the bar and tried to wiggle through the press of bodies blocking her way to the exit. She snatched up her purse as she went, double checking to ensure everything that was supposed to be in it was there. Usually cast parties were a fun time, fun even for the friendless loners like herself. The common bond of having survived the first performance after the long haul of rehearsals made everyone compatriots if not blood brothers. Coming tonight, however, had been beyond stupid. It had been moronic. Idiotic. Imbecilic.

Coming in heals had been an even dumber idea.

They'd all gone out to a club, one filled wall to wall with people and strobes. She'd dressed up – all curled hair, thick make-up and fancy dress – but all she wanted to be wearing were sweats or pjs. But she'd decided to be social. Her friends had told her that she needed to get out, and she'd taken their advice. She'd danced and even tried a drink – which she didn't get more than two sips of before the migraine attacked. Now her temples were throbbing and her stomach was churning, and Astrid just needed to get _out_ and go home.

She stuck her elbow into someone's back with a little more force than was necessary and stumbled between a pair slow dancing. A few shouts followed her as she ploughed her way through a crowd, but most were too distracted to really care.

The night air was cool outside. Although she'd heard as many stories of girls being kidnapped from parking lots as the next woman, she couldn't bring herself to care at this point. It wasn't a large one, anyway, and it wasn't covered. Besides, the city nightlife was pulsing all around her. Cars were speeding by as streaks of headlights and taillights, and other bars, pubs and clubs nearby thrummed with bass-dominated music and stomping dancers. She stopped and leaned back against the cool concrete, breathing in the city air and wondering how it was that she could be standing there alone, when there was a whole city around her.

Then there was a flash of a different kind of light, and Astrid shrank back into the shadows. The double color of police lights wavered across the parking lot as a Saleen Mustang crept up the ally beside the club. Its motor purred, like a great cat stalking prey in the jungle, so that the hairs stood up along Astrid's spine and she wished she could sink farther into the pavement. Her heart was dancing a foxtrot in her breast and her breaths were shallow.

Careful not to disturb the rubbish around her feet, Astrid crouched down, using the cars parked around her as cover. The police cruiser passed close to her hiding place – close enough for her to see the Decepticon brand on its shield and the insidious motto along its side - but Astrid assumed it wasn't utilizing its scanners, or merely believed her to be a normal, inebriated human, because it passed her by without stopping.

Barricade.

It was a long time before she straightened, and even when she did she was trembling so hard that she nearly lost her balance. She was violently sick, and she sobbed and she gagged over the pavement as she shuddered. For a few moments she couldn't see, the tears came so thick to her eyes. Then they poured down her cheeks, and she knew her make-up was absolutely ruined. Even if she might have ducked back into the club for protection before, she couldn't now. She couldn't explain.

She stumbled across the lot to her car and after several attempts steadied her hand enough to get the key in the door. Then she fell inside, locked the doors and gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles.

She drove. She drove and she drove and she drove. She had no idea where she was going, but she knew that she had to get away – somewhere, anywhere.

Barricade was there. How long had he been in the same city? Did he know she was there? Was he looking for her? She had to leave. It didn't matter where she went, just so long as she left Barricade very far behind her.

One sleeve slipped a few inches up her arm as she guided the steering wheel. In the glimmering streetlights, the white scars seemed to shine, like thick cobwebs woven into her skin. Unable to let go of the steering wheel – her knuckles still stood out in a pale line across the back of her hand – and unable to keep looking at the savage deformities, Astrid raised her eyes to the most distant stretch of road she could see and bit the inside of her cheek as the tears came. She was so ugly now. It was no wonder Mirage had left her when she could barely even look at herself in a mirror. Should Barricade come back for another 'demonstration' the worst torture he could inflict on her would be to make her stand before a mirror for any length of time. But she just couldn't let go of the steering wheel, not even to cover the scars again.

The farther she got from the parking lot, the farther she fell into despair.

She was too afraid to go back to her apartment, but she didn't know where else to go. What if Barricade was following her? If he was, then he would most certainly know where she lived. There was no one she could turn to without putting them in danger. Well, there were a few she could turn to, but there were other issues on that score.

So she continued to drive, with no destination in mind.

For the next four hours she continued on like that, until her car ran out of gas and she had to slip into a little burgh by the highway where she could refuel. That gave her time to think. Being forced to drop her speed and pull off of the broad road that never ended helped shake her mind from the haze of fear and adrenaline that had swallowed it. Little pieces of awareness and reason fell back into place as the digital tally climbed on the monitor. By the time the fuel stopped pumping with a _hhssspung_, her mind was back to working order. The threat of Barricade didn't carry quite the weight it had a few hours ago – now that there were probably a hundred miles between the two of them. Once the tank was full again, she pulled out of the gas station and rolled down the narrow little street until she reached a local park. It was nice, if not overly large, and she stopped there for a while to watch the sun's morning dance reflected in the lake. She didn't really pay it much attention. Her mind was involved elsewhere.

She would have to go back. Even if Barricade knew where she lived and how to track her, she had to go back, because there was something important that she'd left behind.

She needed to make a phone call, and in order to make that call, she needed a very special phone.

.O.O.O.

Jess arched her spine over the back of her desk chair, savoring the crack of aligning vertebrae and rejoicing in the fact that her roommate couldn't hear it. The girl she'd been paired with for the previous year couldn't stand it when Jess cracked her back, but Kate really couldn't have cared less. Feeling stiffer than usual, Jess pulled her arms back around behind her neck and stretched each one till the shoulder joint cracked for her. It was a delicious feeling.

Then a wad of paper smacked against the back of her neck, and she turned just enough to see Kate glaring at her.

"You're in my light," said Kate.

"Sorry," Jess said. Slouching down in her chair, she felt the bumpy plastic scrape against her shoulder blades, which were bared by her cami. She spied the clock in the corner of her computer screen and growled. Soon it would be time to go to bed and call it quits on homework for the night. It wasn't like her essay was getting any longer as it was. Who came up with the idiot questions for these things, anyway?

Judging by the sounds coming from across the room, Kate wasn't having much better luck with her homework. There was nearly as much sketch paper stacked up beside the bunk beds as there was left in the artist's sketch pad, and the pile was growing. Ever since Kate had run into her modeling problem she seemed to have been having problems making anything cooperate with her. Jess had no such excuse. She just didn't want to finish her essay.

Rising from the chair, Jess turned her back on her responsibilities – quite literally – and drifted over to the mirror she shared with her roommate. Not a great reflection, but it worked for her. Lanky, skinny and pale, but turned into a physical work of art by the patterns racing over her skin. There were all sorts of half-faded henna tattoos and there were even one or two fresh ones from the day before which were still bright orange, slowly turning to rusty brown. Mixed in the sprawl of henna art were a few pieces of real ink work that she'd had done the day after she turned nineteen. It was a good age – old enough to get away with breaking the rules, and young enough to still want to.

There was a knock at the door, and she shifted just far enough to open it. Then she readjusted her stance and opened it wider. "Astrid! It's past midnight. How did you even get in here? The door locked at twelve."

"Followed a couple drunks," Astrid replied. "They weren't really paying attention to who came in behind them." She looked like she'd just had some sort of near death experience. Her hair and clothes were all done up and fancy, but her make-up had run down to her chin, although it looked like she'd tried to wipe most of it off already.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, fine, peachy, but I need to ask you to do something for me," Astrid said. She bit down on her lip and began toying with the priciest-looking phone Jess had ever seen.

"Sure, anything," Jess said. She beckoned her inside and quickly closed the door behind them. It seemed that this was a conversation better kept away from the ears of the hallway.

Kate glanced up and did a double take when she spied Astrid. Jess could practically see the artistic light flick on over her head and Kate barely had time to offer their guest a wave before she was bent over her notepad again, deep in her sketching.

"Hi, Kate," Astrid murmured a little too late. Looking back to Jess, she reached a hand up to surreptitiously straighten her hair and continued. "I'm going out of town for a bit, and I wanted to make sure that someone knew I was – well – going out of town."

"Ok," said Jess. "So you want me to help you take time off at work?"

"That would be nice, but also I wanted someone to – shoot – um, in case something unexpected happens, I want someone to know I've… geez, I don't know."

"You're not making any sense right now." Jess turned her back on the fallen angel by the door and went to get something with a heck of a lot of caffeine from the fridge. She took a long swallow and let it tingle in her belly for a minute. Once she was sure that she had a grip on at least her own sanity – and was awake enough to deal with Astrid's _in_sanity – she turned around. "Now let's try this again. What exactly do you want…"

Astrid had gone chalk-white, and her eyes were riveted to Jess's shoulder. "What's the matter? Never seen a tat before?"

"Turn around again."

"Huh?"

"Jess, I need to you to turn around again right now."

For a second Jess almost called Astrid on a phenomenal prank, and was ready to recommend her to the drama department, but then she saw the hardness in her eyes and she knew it was not a prank. Slowly, being careful to keep an eye on her guest at all times, she obeyed. Astrid stepped forward hesitantly, carefully bringing her fingers to rest on the skin over Jess's left shoulder blade.

"When did you get this one done?"

Jess made a show of trying to look over her own shoulder, although the cold rock in her gut let her know _exactly_ which tattoo Astrid was indicating. Eventually she sidled over to the mirror and craned her neck far enough around to see the angular little face glaring back at her through her own skin.

"That? I don't know. Ages ago. I don't even know what it means. Why?"

Astrid's face was dead serious. Even Kate had stopped scribbling, finally aware of the tension in the room, and was watching attentively from her perch on the top bunk.

"I think you need to come with me."

A/N: Love it? Hate it? FEED THE STARVING AUTHORS! LEAVE A REVIEW!

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HiddenWithinMyself: Thank you very much! We'll hear from Jeremy eventually, I swear, it's that he isn't the focus of the action at present, so... yeah. Glad you liked it, and I look forward to hearing from you again!

GodisGod!iamnot: Wow. Thank you, thank you and thank you! You're rereading that? I have issues with it, but that's the perfectionist part of me. I have trouble reading ANYTHING I write. I took it down because they muted it, but have you seen the trailer for this one? A friend made a trailer, and I believe there's a link on my profile. I hope to hear from you again soon!

alihag: Thank you! Those are some serious compliments! I hope it continues to meet your standards!


	4. Of Cellulars and Footraces

Disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue

A/N: Hey! Thank you all for the support! Happy Thanksgiving, and here's some extra fun to go with your turkey! This is a LONG one, and it might have to be enough for a little while, because I've kind of exhausted my back-up supply of chapters and I can't make promises with finals in the air, but once the real break begins I should be able to post more regularly. Oh, and I decided that it would only be fair to tell you all that I've pretty much fallen back on the age-old "when I get 10 reviews I'll update" dance, so, yeah, fair warning. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter Four: Of Cellulars and Footraces

"So, are you going to tell us where we're going?"

Astrid glanced over at Jess. Then she looked back to the road.

"You're acting really weird, you know," Jess continued. "If this goes on for much longer I'm gonna stick my head out the window and scream for help."

"I'm not kidnapping you," Astrid said. "You got in out of your own free will, remember? Besides, no one would stop for you. People are good at ignoring each other."

"You mean like you're ignoring my questions right now? Yeah."

"I told you, you wouldn't believe me."

"Does all this involve Santa or the Toothfairy?"

"No."

"Great. Then I'd believe just about anything. Oh. You're not a sasquatch believer, are you?"

"No, Jess, I'm not, and this is not a joke."

"_Then tell me what's going on!_"

A swift kick to the backs of both of their seats reminded them of their third passenger. Jess swung around, waited as Kate signed out her question and then snapped, "It's your own stupid fault for sitting in the back, you moron. I don't care if you can't read our lips from there."

"Mirrors," said Astrid.

"What?"

"Pull down your sun-visor and flip open the mirror so she can see what you're saying."

"Right."

As Jess adjusted the mirror, Astrid glanced at the meters on the dashboard. They would need to pull off for gas soon. Even though she'd managed to resurrect her the thing still guzzled gas like even the biggest pick-up had a right to. Heck, even Ironhide probably required less fuel than this thing. But she was alive so far, and she'd managed to get Jess to come along with her – although, really, it was Kate who had done the persuading. The girl had shaken her roommate by the shoulders until she'd consented to going along with this sudden road trip, and she hadn't set her sketchpad down since. Astrid had to wonder what in the world she could be drawing. She prayed it wasn't her.

Keeping her eyes on the road, she reached down between the seats for her purse, which held the precious few things she'd grabbed from home. One of those things was the phone. Still watching the road, she fished it out of the bag and flipped it open. The dumb thing had taken a full hour to charge – not bad – but when she was running for her life, it seemed like forever.

"Don't you know that you're not supposed to talk on the cell phone while you're driving?" said Jess.

"Yeah, and I normally wouldn't, but this isn't a normal cell phone, and these aren't normal circumstances, so shut-up, please."

"I hope you've got your shrink on speed-dial."

Kate reached up and smacked her sketchbook across the top of Jess's head.

"Hey! Dumb mirror. Be nice," Jess said, emphasizing her words with bits of sign language, "or I won't face you when I talk for a month." Kate signed something back, but Astrid was too busy trying to dial and drive to pay the bickering duo any more attention.

Finally, she placed the slip of electronics against her ear and listened to the regular buzz of her call ringing on the other end. It rang. And it rang. And then it went to voice mail.

"_What's up? This is Jenna, y'all, so drop a line in the box or sing a song at the beep and I'll give you a yell back. Later."_

It took an absurd amount of will power to keep Astrid from beating her head against the steering wheel. Really now? Honestly? The voicemail? All this time, and she was going to spark her reunion with her old life by leaving a voicemail?

"Hey, Jen. I _know_ you left that message to confuse poor Ratchet, but it just sounds retarded. Just so you know. I need to talk to you right now. And the big guys, too. I think I've got a problem. And I know I've been a jerk, and an idiot, and a lot of other things, but this is seriously important, so please call me back as soon as you get this. I'm not ready to talk to the others yet, but I really need you. Thanks."

She clicked the phone shut and saw her two passengers staring at her. Jess was squinting at her through narrowed eyes, and Kate was observing her passively through the rearview mirror.

"What? Haven't you ever heard someone leave a voicemail before?"

.O.O.O.

Jenna emerged from the shower with a towel wrapped around her hair and a fuzzy pink robe draping down to her toes. Her phone was still sitting on her bed where she'd left it, right next to the dress clothes she was required to wear for meetings such as the one she was to attend that afternoon. These things were the great drawback to being the 'civilian representative'. She got the great pleasure of sitting in a chair designed for people much taller than herself while military brutes, Autobots and the occasional brave piece of political refuse debated with each other for entire afternoons at a time – as her feet grew number and number, and her back grew stiffer and stiffer. No wonder official people always looked like they'd been stuffed with a ramrod up their backs. It was the pain that made them move like that.

In another five minutes she was dressed and pressed and ready for the torture to begin. On her way out the door she grabbed up her tote bag and her cell phone, which she dumped in her pocket without checking the messages.

Who could've called her while she was in the shower, anyway?

.O.O.O.

His engine turned over as the relay of information jolted him out of recharge.

It was an old channel, one that hadn't been used in several years, but the data streaming over it was fresh and clear as it ever was, and as he perused it, his spark flared in the pit of his chasis. Coordinates, recordings, confirmed voice patterns, all came rushing into his processor as the piece of spyware broadcasted over the open channel. Everything he needed rested in his servos.

So many years, so much time, but the taste of the hunt was burning down his intake valves like it had only been yesterday that his query had vanished from the face of this filthy planet.

It couldn't be more perfect. The spyware showed him the humans in the vehicle through the hijacked camera integrated into the device, but there did not appear to be any Cybertronian in the immediate area. For a race that regarded their precious little technology so highly, they certainly forgot about it quickly. When the little organic had been stolen to be used as a hostage during Soundwave's assault on the Autobots, he had modified the little communications device – clearly a gift from her Cybertronian keepers – that she carried with her. The little program he'd slipped into the flimsy electronics hadn't been enough to be picked up on a normal scan, probably not even by most of the medic's more intensive searches. But who would suspect that particular piece of tech anyway, when they already knew that it had been sabotaged? Everything had gone according to his plan. They searched it, and they found exactly what they planned to: the bug that kept the device from receiving Autobot signals. Then they'd returned it to the femme, and he'd been tracking it ever since.

But then came the time when the signal had simply disappeared, and when he investigated the area the femme had previously occupied, he had found it abandoned. Like a little sensor ghost, she had vanished from all documentation and recordings – official or otherwise – that he could uncover concerning the Autobots.

Now, however, the hunt was ready to begin again. He cast his scanners as far as they could possibly reach, and though the echo he received was faint, it was void of Cybertronian life. This time it seemed that his patience had paid off: the little femme was on her own, far from her guardian or the insufferable medic bot. There would be no interference in his games. Had he been in any other form, he might have smiled. As it was, his frame shuddered to life, and his siren gave a harsh blip or two to warn the world of his quest.

Barricade was on the hunt again.

.O.O.O.

"Are we there yet?"

"That isn't funny, Jess."

Jess laughed, just to prove Astrid wrong, it seemed. "Sure it is. I mean, really, this whole thing is. We're in a car, going nobody-knows-where in the middle of the night for no reason that you're _willing_ to share with us and you're in the most conservative cocktail dress I've ever seen. And _heals_. I didn't peg you for the _heals_ type."

Clutching the steering wheel and trying to recall the desperate sense of purpose that had landed her in this situation, Astrid ground out, "I'm not."

"Then why wear 'em?"

"Because it's what chorus girls are supposed to do after an opening night."

"Didn't peg you as the sort who did what they were 'supposed to do', either."

"That's just your own fault. I've always been the good girl."

"That's depressing."

Astrid wanted to close her eyes and pretend she was somewhere else, but if she didn't watch the road she _would_ be going 'somewhere else'. The summer forest made the road more of a tunnel than a pathway, the long boughs interlocking high over the blacktop and obliterating the star- and moonlight. She had no idea where she was going, but at least she was on the straight and narrow to get there.

"Oh my gosh."

This was getting ridiculous. What could Jess have possibly found to critique _now_? Arching her eyebrows pointedly, she glanced sideways at her passenger, but her retort of '_What now?_' died on her lips. Jess's eyes were glued to the space just in front of Astrid, where her hands rested on the steering wheel, and Astrid could just barely feel the soft movement of air from the air conditioner wafting over her forearm – which should not have been exposed to it. She glanced at her own wrist.

Sure enough, the sleeve had fallen clear back to her elbow, exposing the mess of scars Barricade had tattooed her with. She growled. From that point on, she swore she would never wear loose sleeves again. Kate was leaning up from the backseat, trying to see what had garnered such a response from Jessica, and Astrid actually did let her eyes flutter shut for a second.

"Astrid?"

Jess was looking her in the face again. That was an improvement at least. Gone was the teasing derision and in its place was a face filled with genuine shock and concern.

"What happened?"

But that was a tango Astrid wasn't quite ready to dance yet, so she reached down for her phone again, feeling the soft ripple of the fabric sliding back over her arm as she did so.

She could only handle one battle at a time.

.O.O.O.

Alright, so these committee meetings weren't quite so bad as Jenna cracked them up to be. How could they be, when the room was half-filled with really cute G.I. Joes? Heck, she was one of the only single women in the room – well, one of the only women, period – and that gave her a certain… advantage? At the moments her sights were set on a certain dreamy flyboy angled across the table from her. Blonde hair, blue eyes – Mr. MacDreamy, most definitely. And Jenna swore to herself that by the end of this meeting one of them would have the other's phone number.

A quick glance out of the corner of her eye when he caught her looking, a genuine blush, and she had his attention. She crossed her legs slowly, leaning back a little in her chair as she did so. Perfectly natural, perfectly flirty. This time she caught him looking, but he didn't look away when she caught him, and she grinned at him. He smiled back – or smirked – and settled back a little in his own chair.

Just as she was about to initiate phase two in her attack plan, Jenna was nearly startled out of her seat by a rousing rendition of "We All Live in a Yellow Submarine" resounding from her bag. Fumbling madly for her phone, she tried to ignore all the eyes – some glaring some laughing – fixed on her. Lennox was the worst. He was sitting right next to her, probably in an effort to keep her out of trouble – fat lot of good it did. Ever since she'd been asked by the Autobots to join their little circus, he had had it out for her. She understood, though, really. Sorta. Kinda. He was all for Astrid assuming the position she'd been predestined for, and had problems with her sense of humor – and wardrobe – and tact…

"Sorry – sorry…" she mumbled, still fishing.

The twins – the big ones - were sniggering at her. She could _hear_ them. But even their mockery wasn't so bad as the suppressed whirs coming from one or two of the older mechs right behind her. She just knew that if she turned around she'd see the funny fins on either side of Wheeljack's head doing their little lights show, the one that let the world know he was cracking up on the inside, even if he had the decency to stay quiet in the auditory sense of the word…

Who the heck…? She'd turned the friggin' thing _off_. There was only one kind of tech in the world that could get her cell phone to wake up without her consent, and pretty much all of that tech was standing around the table where she was seated. But she couldn't just turn it off. It was probably an important call…

So, risking life, limb and reputation, she flipped the phone open and bravely whispered, "Hello?"

"_Hey, Jen."_

"No way." That came out a lot louder than Jenna had planned, and she cast a furtive glance at the frowning army Ranger sitting beside her.

On Jenna's end of the line, the room had suddenly grown dangerously silent. All pretense of continuing the meeting while Jenna played with her phone had been dropped, and she could imagine Prime and Ratchet's optics pinning her down in her seat. She didn't have to imaging Lennox's: she could see them. If his eyebrows got any closer together they'd touch and get stuck that way.

Suffice it to say, there was no way in the Pit she was going to get the private reunion with Astrid that she'd been hoping for. She might as well have the whole thing on speaker phone – then again, considering the present company she probably already did.

"_Do you never check your messages?"_

"Uh…" She couldn't think, not with all of these eyes trying to read her.

"Is that Astrid?"

Jenna blinked up at Ratchet like a deer caught in his search and rescue spot lights. Oh, crap. One did not lie to the Hatchet. One did not spill Astrid's beans for her, either, if one wanted to live.

"Uh…"

"_Jenna… are you alone right now?"_

"Uh…"

"Jenna!" said Ratchet.

"Oh, I give up," Jenna said, smacking the speaker button and tossing the phone to the center of the conference table. "Speak up, babe, you've got a heck of an audience."

"_Meaning…?"_

"Astrid Fenner."

"… _Optimus Prime." _

"Astrid, you should not have stayed out of touch for such an extended period."

"_And Ratchet."_

"It's about time, girl."

"_AND Lennox. Geez, Jenna, did you forget ANYONE?" _

"Oh, she didn't. But you did."

"_Sideswipe. And wherever there's a Sideswipe there's a…" _

"'A'? There is only one of me and only one of my brother. You make as much sense now as you did as a youngling."

"…_Sunstreaker." _

"I feel it's only fair to warn you that pretty much anyone with any kind of clout on base is here, human or otherwise," Jenna said.

"_Does that mean…?" _

"Jazz and your brother are not present," Prime said.

Astrid gave a weak chuckle and said, _"Thank heaven for small favors, right?"_

For about one full minute there was silence on either end of the line. Only the quiet _vrrrooom_ of a car from Astrid's side could be heard. At length, Ratchet said, "If you are communicating via your cell phone while driving, Astrid, I promise that you will be in trouble with more than the human authorities."

Astrid laughed - she actually _laughed_ - at that, and Jenna shivered. It was a strange kind of laugh, the tired, irrational, insane kind that all the students on campus got before finals. And Astrid never laughed at Ratchet's threats, anyway. At least, the Astrid she'd known didn't, but maybe that had changed, too.

"_Sorry, Ratch. I've got a lot on my mind right now. I think there's somebody that you guys need to meet." _

Optimus hummed. "Explain."

A new voice spiked through the line, causing more than one of the people around Jenna to give a start. _"Hey, you never said anything about meeting anybody."_

Jenna just about choked on air. What the heck? Was Astrid picking up hitch-hikers now? Had she forgotten everything about that non-disclosure document she had signed away her soul with? Poor Lennox looked like the vein throbbing over his temple was about ready to burst.

"_I told you I'd explain later, Jess,"_ said Astrid. _"Are you still there, guys?"_

"Of course," said Optimus.

"What are you doing, Astrid?" Lennox demanded. "Have you lost your mind? What could make you think…"

"_This someone has the Decepticon emblem marked on her shoulder."_

…Aaaand the dead silence was back again.

"_Still there?"_

"Yep," Jenna said. She pushed a little away from the desk and started kicking her chair around in a spin. "Not only do you have awful timing, but I've met future hamburgers with better luck than you. Anything else we ought to know?"

"_My new friend's roommate is in the backseat and I ate your crayons when we were in kindergarten."_

At that moment, Jenna stopped spinning and her forehead became intimately acquainted with the hard-wood conference table. Ratchet made some kind of protesting noise behind her, but she just ignored him. A couple years in the medic's company had taught her to do that really well. "Let's not do that dance again. Last time you started kiddie confessional time you went off and got yourself kidnapped. Different topic, please?"

"Are you certain it is the Decepticon ensign?" Prowl – who had been standing silent and stiff as usual – asked.

"_Possitive."_

"Does your friend have any idea what she's got stuck on her skin?" said Lennox.

"_I don't think so, but I haven't had too much of a chance to discuss it with her. As soon as I spotted it I figured it was something you guys ought to handle." _

"A wise decision," said Prime. Jenna shot him a look. The post of civilian ambassador seemed to still be available, then.

"_Thanks."_

One word, and Jenna hated herself. So much relief, so much gratitude for such a tiny piece of acceptance in Astrid's voice, and there she was getting nervous about the competition. She was still Astrid's friend before she was anything else – wasn't she? What was wrong with her?

"How long has this 'friend' had the symbol on their person?" Prowl asked.

"_I don't know, like I said…" _

After a second of silence, Lennox asked, "Astrid?"

"_Oh, no." _

"Astrid?" Ratchet leaned over towards the phone, like he could physically reach Astrid through the tiny speaker.

"_Barricade, it's Barricade. He's right behind us. He's found me."_

"Do not panic," Optimus ordered, already motioning a few of the Autobots towards the exit. The rescue was underway, but Jenna had no doubt that they'd reach Astrid and her 'new friend' far too late.

"Your phone is broadcasting your location," Lennox said, taking command of the conversation while Optimus moved to give his soldiers more specific instructions, or locate any Autobots presently closer to Astrid than they were. "We know where you are. You aren't alone in this, ok?"

_Half a world away_. Jenna felt sick. No way, there was just no way.

"_Lennox, Jenna …" _And then the line dissolved into screams and the shriek of warping metal.

.O.O.O.

Astrid's hand was shaking as she heard voice after voice add its piece to the conversation. And there were probably others. There were always others. Couldn't she even have this one conversation alone with Jenna? Couldn't she fix one piece of the puzzle before she tried to stick the whole thing back together?

But there would be time for that later. Maybe. She hoped.

Over the scatter-shot of her thoughts, her voice glided out like it would from a reasonable, calm balanced mind. The more frantic she grew, in fact, the calmer her voice sounded in her ears. She only hoped that it sounded equally clam in the ears and audio receptors of her old allies. Judging by the many questions she was being asked and the tone in which they were being asked, they were all being taken in by her smooth tongue.

The two in the car were not so easily fooled.

Jess had a frown set so deeply in her eyes that Astrid doubted that she'd ever clear it off again. Her lips were bent and stretched to such a thin line she could barely see them at all. In the backseat, Kate was proving to be little better. Her own lips were poised in a doubtful pucker and the pencil hung suspended over the paper as she scrutinized Astrid's eyes through the rearview mirror.

Then a flashing light appeared beside Kate's eyes in the mirror. Eventually, it grew close enough to be recognized as the spinning strobe of a police cruiser, and Astrid started to move the car to the side in order to let the official pass, but even as she did so, a cold sweat was breaking out along her neck. It was just a police car, a regular, ordinary police car. She'd met many since her time with Barricade, and although they never failed to send icy prickles dancing up her spine, she'd learned to live with them. Mirage had helped her through it, and after the first few encounters with such a vehicle she had stopped trying to outrun or hide from them. So now she drifted towards the shoulder, half her mind on the road and half on the conversation, all her unnamable fears heightened by the lights and the chirping wail of the siren. But the cop car didn't pass.

Frustrated, Astrid glanced over to see the jerk driving alongside her. And she felt her stomach drop out. Glaring back at her from the side of the cruiser was a familiar, angular face, and trailing behind it the words _To punish and enslave_.

"Oh, no."

One the Autobots – had it really been so long that she couldn't recognize their voices in a crisis? – was calling to her, and she mustered the concentration to say, "Barricade, it's Barricade. He's right behind us. He's found me." They tried to talk to her after that, she could _hear_ them, she just couldn't _understand_ them. She understood only that Barricade was beside her, they were in the middle of nowhere, and there was no protection for hundreds of miles that would be adequate for combat with a Cybertronian. She understood that she was going to die.

"Lennox, Jenna…"

Barricade seemed to tire of the game, and he swerved into Astrid's old junker. The car couldn't take the strain and Astrid swiftly lost control. Both of her new friends were screaming as the tires left the pavement. She realized that she was screaming as well. Again, Barricade crashed into them, and this time it was more that a teasing nudge.

.O.O.O.

"Aren't you going to do _something?_" Jenna shrieked.

Lennox started up in alarm, along with several of his men, and the involuntary response gave Jenna the barest hint of satisfaction. But she wasn't through with him yet. He had a job to do, and if she had to get up in his face in order to make him do it, then so be it.

"My _best friend_ is out there, facing down the monster you guys failed to protect her from once already." They all stood there looking at her with… what was that?... pity? No. No, that wasn't right. "Shouldn't you be _doing something?_"

"Jenna." She shut her eyes, hoping to blot out all of her senses by closing off just that one. Astrid had just called her that. Astrid had just called her. And now she was gone again. She clapped her hands over her ears. She didn't want to hear anything, anything at all, not ever.

Ratchet's warm digits closed around her and scooped her off the ground. He lifted her away from the conference table, which had disintegrated into a state of chaos since the unexpected phone call – half the people were trying to figure out the appropriate protocol for this situation and the other half were demanding who the heck Astrid was – and he brought her close to his spark.

Then she cried. And she cried. She cried so hard she wondered if she'd ever be able to stop.

There and then gone again. It wasn't fair, and it wasn't right. And Ratchet's finger was stroking down her hair, and the warmth was so comforting, and she pressed her face against his chasis in an effort to block out the world. It seemed that Astrid was no longer the only DID.

.O.O.O.

The road they were on ran along the side of a short hill, and as the car lost all semblance of balance, it went bouncing down along it. Now Astrid was sure she was screaming. All the trees, rocks and pieces of sky outside blurred into a sick green and blue kaleidoscope that spun and spun as the car tumbled down the slope. Then they smacked into a tree, and the kaleidoscope abruptly stopped. For a few seconds it was all Astrid could do to keep breathing, but gradually bits and pieces of her situation broke through the haze of shock that clouded her mind, and she stirred herself to motion with a sharp jerk.

"Are you two alright?" she asked. She tasted blood on her tongue.

"I – I think so," said Jess. There was a cut on her forehead, and she held her right hand like it hurt, but it didn't _look_ like it was broken. "Kate? Are you alive."

There was a frustrated moan, and Astrid saw the flutter of her pale hands speaking in the dark. Jess seemed to take this as an 'all clear' and began trying to loosen herself from her seatbelt with only one hand. Astrid bent over the help her, and just as she turned to open her own door, she heard Kate's door swing open with a click. Thank heaven they'd landed the right way up.

"All parts present and accounted for?" Jess asked.

"Yeah."

"Great, then you can please take the time to tell me what the heck you've gotten us into."

"Sorry, but no."

Jess actually growled, and she seized a fistful of Astrid's sleeve when the blond turned to walk away. "What do you mean, 'no'?"

"I mean, 'no, I will not take the time to explain right now because we happen to have a demon cop car on our tail, and I think our time would be better spent running than talking'. Wouldn't you agree?"

The roar of a motor from the road – and another sound which only Astrid recognized – caught Jess's attention, and Kate followed her roommate's stare anxiously. Then Jess glowered at Astrid again. "Don't think this means you're off the hook."

"I wouldn't dream of it, now let's go."

.O.O.O.

Military personnel in several different uniforms scrambled around the control room, busy with about three different situations. One team was huddled around a station of consoles, all flashing with alien symbols as they tried to crack stray transmissions from the Decepticons. Another was busy speaking through various means of communication to the handful of teams still abroad – each on different missions. Lastly was a group ranged around a massive screen, and it was this last team that Lennox joined. "Tell me what we've got, people. Who do we have in the area?" he said, marching over.

"That can reach Fenner's kid sister before Barricade finishes his dirty work?" Epps asked. "Nobody. Not even marines. She's in the middle of nowhere, and I'm not exaggeratin'."

Lennox frowned at the screen before him that was highlighted with the locations of every known Autobot. Two green and red lights were conspicuously missing. "Where are Skids and Mudflap?"

"Are you kidding? Not even Prime knows. Last anyone saw 'em, those two were tearing out of formation and headin' for hills. The only thing the 'bots with them got was a text message that they were takin' a vacation to 'see the local wildlife'. After that they shut down their own comm. lines."

"Who's closest?"

"The closest would be Jazz's team. They have an eta of two hours."

"You have got to be kidding me." Will slapped the console. "The last thing we need is Jeremy Fenner getting wrapped up in this mess until we know what's going on. He couldn't handle it if he winds up seeing his baby sister's dismembered corpse. You remember what he was like last time."

"Too late to stop 'em now."

"What?"

"Prime commed his troops the second things went south on Astrid's end of the call. Jazz and the team with him are already en route."

"This just keeps getting better and better."

.O.O.O.

The woods were close and thick, filled with sticker bushes and small trees that would prove to be no problem for the Cybertronian pursuing them, but caused the three humans infinite trouble. The fact that Astrid was in a long evening dress and Kate had refused to give up her sketch book made the trek even trickier. For the past few days it had been raining off and on, and the ground was sticky and soggy. The mud gulped at their shoes, and Astrid soon abandoned her high heels altogether in an effort to free up her feet. Survival seemed more important than fashion at the moment, and she was sure she already looked like a wild thing, anyway, so it hardly mattered if her feet were caked in leaves and mud.

What concerned her more was the number of rips and tears accumulating across her dress. If this went on for much longer then she was certain her clothing would show as much skin as her co-actresses' had at the party earlier. She didn't want to deal with all that, especially when there were bigger concerns, like the giant metal monster crashing through the forest somewhere behind them. Astrid was no fool, she knew that Barricade could have found them ages ago, but he was choosing to extend the game, to play with his prey until all three were shivering on the ground, waiting for him to come and finish them…

What would Jenna say in this situation? _Positive thoughts, Astrid, positive thoughts_. But Jenna would say more than that. _HAPPY thoughts! Then all we've gotta do is find Tinkerbell and we're set. Your robo-stalker can't fly, can he?_ Astrid was just loopy enough that the vision of Jenna in a tutu with fairy wings was enough to make her smirk.

"I'm glad to know that _someone's_ in a good mood," said Chris. "Didn't know you got your kicks being hunted down by crazy cops."

"Barricade isn't a cop."

"The freak has a name? And you know it? And the people you were talking to on the phone knew it. Dang, girl, what have you gotten us into?"

"A really big mess."

"So if he isn't a cop, what is he?"

Another thorn pricked Astrid's arm, and she winced away from the sound of ripping material. "Something big and nasty. Satisfied?"

"No."

"Well then, just keep making noise like you are now and you'll find out soon enough."

They fell silent after that, listening to the rustles and snaps made by their own passage through the underbrush and the crashing ruckus being made by the monster behind them.

"There is no way one guy can make that much noise," Jess muttered.

Astrid gave her a wry grin. "You'd be surprised."

"_Fleshling!"_

"What the crap?" Jess whirled, peering back through the trees, though the dark kept its secrets in this world beyond the beauty of electric lights.

"_Are we playing games now, fleshy? Hide and seek?"_

"He's _deranged_," said Jess.

"_I always win this game, and I have all the time in the universe to play with you, because your guardian isn't here, is he, squishy?"_

"Oh, man," Jess took a step back, and then several more in rapid succession. "You've got some seriously messed up friends, girlie."

"That thing is not my friend."

"Well then you've got the stalker from heck."

"_Ready or not, here I come."_

The three 'hiders' emerged in a field, and Astrid realized that they needed a new strategy. This whole sneaking through underbrush thing wouldn't work too well without any underbrush to sneak through, and she wasn't sure how she felt about turning around and trying to throw Barricade off by creeping back towards the wrecked car. Wait, she did know: she felt like it was a really dumb idea. By the sound of things Barricade must have reduced at least half the forest to splinters by then.

"I call for a footrace," said Jess. "First one past the next tree line wins an extra five minutes to live. On your mark, get set, go!" All three girls shot from the verge of the woods like hares fleeing a forest fire.

Astrid's heels sunk into the furrowed field with each lunge, but the adrenaline screaming through her veins helped her keep nearly even with Kate and Jess, who had been blessed with the good sense to wear gym shoes that day. They might be afraid of the unknown something crashing along behind them, but Astrid was afraid of the demon that she knew was hunting them, and that knowledge made her all the faster. The trees were almost within reach, and from what she could hear, Barricade was still working on leveling the forest, and then suddenly a red and green blur came flying and tumbling from the woods in front of them. Astrid, Jess and Kate skidded to a stop, and Astrid finally lost her balance and tumbled backward into the dirt. Once the screeching ball had come more or less to a stop, it pulled itself in two, revealing two very short Cybertronians, who seemed to be involved in the most amateurish display of fisticuffs Astrid had ever seen.

"I told you the bad robot wasn't in those woods, idiot!"

"No, I told _you_, Thkids, an' I ain't an idiot!"

Jess screamed.

Both of the robots froze, looked at the three humans staring up at them, and blinked. "Uh-oh, Thkids," said the red one, "we got _locals_."

Giving the red one a final slap for good measure – which was returned in kind – the green one turned to the humans, held up one hand in the Vulcan 'live long and prosper sign' and said, "We come in peace, yo."

A/N: FEED THE STARVING AUTHORS! LEAVE A REVIEW!

Replies to those without accounts:

To whom it may concern: Thanks for the review, and you know that I know who this is, so I won't confuse either of us by continuing with that train of thought. Here's another chapter, and another cliffie, although it isn't as bad as the one I'd originally planned. ;P

GodisGod!andIamnot: Thanks for the review! Always great to hear from you, and I'm glad you liked that sequence. Hopefully you liked this bit! Hope to hear from you again!

alihag: Thanks for the review! Snrk, sneakiness never pays unless you belong to one of the sets of twins, which I'm assuming you don't. Therefore... read and review and I'll keep passing out goodies. Snrk. Thank you, thank you and thank you again! You'll hear about the tattoo eventually, but right now they have more pressing matters... Hope to hear from you again!

HiddenWithinMyself: Thanks for the review! Thank heavens for break indeed! Glad you're liking it so much! I hope to hear from you after this chapter!

indotreeeater: Thanks for the review! You have saved two lives, you know. Anyway, don't you have an account, you sneaky little booger?


	5. Of Flights and Rescues

Disclaimer: Me no own and you no sue, dooda...

A/N: Thank you all for the fabulous turn out after the last chapter! You have sufficiently rallied my muse to get off its lazy rear and get a move on. So, here's a fresh chapter for you! Finals are coming, but I might be able to eek out another chapter - especially seeing as how my beta reader (who is also my roommate) just about beat the living snot out of me after this chapter. See you at the end!

Chapter Five: Of Flights and Rescues

Astrid suddenly found herself with a pair of incredibly bright optics shoved up in her face, and one very _hard_ finger poking into her very _sore_ ribs. Jess and Kate were still doing the whole backpedal and slip around routine, their eyes all goggle-sized and their jaws flapping down on their chests, so Astrid elected to ignore them for the time being in favor of the two not-so-massive-as-usual aliens who were gawking at her like she was a star straight from the pages of _USA Today_.

"You look real familiar, yo," said the green one. "You one o' the Chia Pet's friends?"

Although her first response was more akin to '_eh?',_ Astrid controlled herself and managed to ask, "Are you Autobots?" Dumb question. What Decepticon would greet her like a Trekkie?

"Duh," said greenie. "Bad robots suck."

The red one, who had been scratching his head up to this point, snapped his fingers and shouted, "I know you! You're the Fenner thith!"

"Wha'?" the greenie blinked.

"Jeremy's thithter," the red one insisted. In the loudest whisper Astrid had ever heard, he added, "Mirathe's _girl_friend."

"Oh! Yeah!" Greenie leaned in even closer and little tinglies swept over Astrid's skin. "I knew that."

"Whatetha, you did not."

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did – ow! Hey, watch where you chuck them things!"

Astrid's two new friends had recovered from their initial shock, and Jess was standing there with her fists up and Kate had another rock hefted over her shoulder, ready to launch. As the green 'Bot stumbled with his hand clapped to his optic, the red one reached for its weapons. Astrid threw herself between the two groups, hands raised. She did not, however, get the chance to argue any of them into standing down, because at that moment Barricade broke through the woods a little ways behind them and gave a triumphant and angry roar.

"Dang, girl, is this why yo pump is beatin' so fast?" said Greenie.

"Ith the bad robot botherin' you?" the red one asked. Both assumed a defensive stance over the three girls, petty rock-throwing forgotten.

"Y-yeah."

"You just leave it to the twins," said Greenie.

The two went rolling and tumbling across the field, dodging Barricade's rapid fire, and Astrid stumbled and tripped over to Jess and Kate.

"We've gotta get out of here!" Kate yelled over the noise.

"I know! But these two are good guys!" Astrid yelled back.

"What?!"

"Good robots! Trust me! They're Autobots, that means they're on our side. We've gotta wait for them or… something."

"You think I'm gonna risk my life waiting around for dumb and dumber, the robot-version? No way!"

"Jess, they can help us! They can tell the military where we are!"

Kate lunged and grabbed onto Jess's arm, signing too quickly for Astrid to follow at all. Judging by the look on Jess's face, however, Astrid assumed that she had an ally.

"You've gotta be kidding me," said Jess. She glanced over her shoulder at the fight going on behind them, and the others looked, too.

The twins weren't bad, but Barricade was a seasoned trooper and one of the very best. It was like watching to jack russel terriers trying to take down a bull mastiff. It just wasn't happening. They could be annoying, sure, slow the brute down and give him a few smarting scrapes, but they didn't have the best odds in a beat down, drag out fight like they were in now. Barricade managed to grab onto the red one's ankle and sent him flying across the field and into the trees behind the girls. The landing was enough to take down a whole section of the woods and the tremor shook the girls off their feet once again. With one pest gone, Barricade began to advance across the field, although he was noticeably slowed by the green Autobot hounding his feet.

An engine roared behind the girls, and a sporty, red, compact car zipped out into the field, popping all four doors open as it spun around to a stop. "Get in, dollthz."

Kate needed no encouragement at all to dive into the safe interior of the mechanical warrior – although whether or not she realized at that point that the car equaled the robot was unclear – but Jess was another matter entirely. She eyed the innocent-looking vehicle in a way that clearly showed she knew exactly what it really was. Although every second brought Barricade one heavy step closer to them, Jess looked like she was ready to just stand there all night, facing off with the open door. Astrid caught her eye and glared.

"Oh, you are _not_ going to argue with me about this right now."

Barricade said something – thankfully untranslatable –in Cybertronian as Greenie blew something in his foot, and he stomped one step closer. Astrid looked at Jess again.

"Jess, we really don't have time for this right now."

"If I get in there, I hold you personally responsible for whatever happens from this point on."

Images of massive red eyes and claws tearing into her skin flashed across her mind's eye, and Astrid's hand wandered to the scars twining around her arms. But she didn't have a choice; she had to accept. "Fine, you can blame me all you want later, but if you want there to be a later then you need to get in the car right now."

Jess nodded and dove into the backseat beside Kate. Astrid leapt into the front seat, clicking her seatbelt in place as the little red car made tracks and went bouncing across the uneven field. The green twin managed to keep Barricade occupied for about half a minute, but Barricade didn't seem keen on letting the little 'Bot keep him from catching his prey, and his transformed midair, coming down hard in the dirt and sending clods of it flying into his enemy's face. Kate and Jess had their faces pressed to the glass – or whatever the Autbots had in their windows – and shrieked as Barricade's sirens wailed to life.

"He's gonna catch us!"

"Ya'll just trutht in the twinth. We've got it."

"How is it still talking?" Jess demanded. "It's got no face."

"I've got a face, and ith's a lot prettier than _yo_'s," said the car. "And I ain't an it. I'm Mudflap."

"As pleased as I am to finally learn your name," Astrid said, clinging to her seatbelt, "would you mind saving introductions for later? Meaning, after we've ditched the psycho-Con behind us?"

Mudflap hooted. "No problem, dollth, but you better hold on tight, now. Nobody metheth with the twinth."

Much to Astrid's chagrin, the little car zipped back into the trees. All three girls screamed, and Mudflap whooted in glee as the trees rushed up to crush them. The first swerve sent them all slamming into doors and Astrid's seatbelt bit into her neck. None of their appeals for a reduction in speed or greater care were heeded, however, and the little sports car continued weaving and swerving around the rough columns that sprung up like ghosts under the power of his harsh, white headlights. Speaking of which… "You know, we might stand a better chance of shaking Barricade if you turned your lights off."

"Oh, yeah, right." The lights winked off, and the three girls continued to obey the laws of inertia in the dark. It was extremely disconcerting as their rescuer dodged obstacles they couldn't see and they were tossed around like unsecured luggage in the belly of a windowless fighter jet, but Astrid at least had faith in the Autobots' abilities as a race. As far as she knew, night vision came standard on all models.

She looked over to the rearview mirror and nearly choked on her own heart. Barricade's brights were glaring back at her through the glass, and the spinning blue and red strobes atop his cab demanded her attention with authority. It was almost like she could hear him in her head, he was coming to get her, with his all his usual showiness, and there was nothing this ickle bitty Autobot could do to stop him. And then – suddenly – he spun out and crashed through the trunk of a massive pine. Mudflap's green brother spun around Barricade's veering fender and zagged off in front of the red twin, coming to halt in a somewhat defensive stance between pursuer and twin. At first Barricade tried to pull out of his spin and continue his pursuit, but Greenie was there to intercept him, and with Mudflap already cloaked by the dark and the trees, the cop car seemed to vouch for the closer target to vent his wrath upon. Mudflap did not stop.

"Are you just going to leave him?" Jess demanded. "There's no way he can take on that monster by himself."

"Who thaid anythin' 'bout 'takin' him on'?" Mudflap asked. "He's thust gonna give uth a headthtart ith all. Onth he'th ditched the baddie he'll meet up with uth again. We already got the thpot picked out an' everythin'."

Sure enough, they had soon left the flash of Barricade's lights and the green shine of Mudflap's twin behind them and there was only darkness and trees. Eventually they found a road and Astrid felt some of the nervous tension leave her spine. In the backseat Kate had a death-grip on her sketchbook and Jess had a death-grip on Kate, but as soon as the fear began to drain from their minds, they all felt their tongues loosen and the questions began.

"Astrid, is it later yet?"

"Not later enough."

"Too bad. I want answers, so start talking."

The sick burn of bile crept up the back of Astrid's throat and she shook her head against the headrest. "I'm sorry, Jess, but I can't do this yet."

"Oh, yes you can." In another second Jess had her fingers tangled in Astrid's short blond hair and Astrid's head was forced back into the faux leather. "Start talkin', Barbie, 'cause I am really not in the mood to play nice."

"Whoa now!" Mudflap said. "I think y'all need ta chill." Jess's seatbelt yanked her back into the rear bench beside Kate, but she fell back with a small fistful of bleached hair in her fist. At the sight of the straightened threads lying limp over her roommate's black fingernails, Kate made a disapproving groan which went unacknowledged by the raging Jessica and Mudflap pulled the belts just a little tighter. "I don't go for that thort of thing. Y' ok, Athtrid?"

One hand clamped to her oozing scalp and the other clenched around the seatbelt, Astrid barely managed a nod, trying to ignore the taste sitting on the back of her tongue. She squeezed her eyes shut, felt the moist brush of her eyelashes on her cheeks and knew that she was crying.

"Aw, don't be like that, doll," Mudflap crooned, rocking back and forth on his tires just the slightest bit as they zoomed down the shadowed lane. "It'll all be better thoon, you'll thee. The twinth've got ya now."

"At least tell me that you've still got your cell phone," said Jess.

Astrid rubbed her cheek against the seam in her headrest and tried to shake off the pain burning across her scalp. "I'm sorry. I lost it in the wreck. Pretty sure it's back with the car."

"Wherever that is," Jess snorted. "The talking car…"

"Ith _Mudflap_."

"Fine – _Mudflap_ – has some kind of built-in walkie talkie or something, right?"

"Well – uh – thorta."

"What does _that_ mean? Do you have a phone or don't you?"

"I've got one, it jutht don't work ith all."

A dropped pin would've sounded like a nuclear explosion in the red Autobot's cab, and it was only after a significant pause that Astrid managed a hazy, "What?"

"We thorta turned off our comms when we went 'xplorin' without Prime'th permithion…"

Kate smacked Jess on the arm and Astrid bent her neck around to watch her hands flutter like black silhouettes against the rear window.

"Wha..? It's name? You want to know the thing's name? Seriously?" said Jess.

For the second time a resounding smack broke the increasingly awkward atmosphere in the car.

"Mudflap," Jess said slowly, signing out the individual letters as she went. After a thoughtful frown Kate signed them back, and then she frowned again. "She think's his name is too awkward to spell out all the time," said Jess, "so she's gonna find a way to abbreviate it. Be flattered, Mudflap, you'll be the first compact sports car to get a name from Kate."

"The give namth a lot? Why? Whath wrong with mine?"

"Kate is deaf, Mudflap," said Astrid. "She can't hear, so your spoken name isn't of much use to her. Since she can't hear and it's harder for her to speak herself she uses motions to speak. Google ASL and download it or something."

For almost a full minute there was silence, and then, "That'th jutht thweet, yo."

.O.O.O.

The crunched wreckage of the hapless little sedan was not the sort of thing Jeremy had hoped to find when he reached the scene of the attack. Jazz had tried to reason him into hanging back while he and a few members on an advance team moved in to assess the situation, but the older Fenner would have none of it. If his sister was in that heap, then he was going to be the first to reach her, no ifs ands or buts, and there was nothing his Cybertronian counterpart could say about it. And so there he was, skidding down the hill on a wave of shale and gravel, trying to bite down on the panic threatening to eat him alive. He had no doubt that Jazz was monitoring him as closely as he was monitoring their surroundings, and he had to force himself to remember that he was just trying to be a good friend and not a mechanical mother hen.

"There're no life signs," Jazz reported as Jeremy skidded to a halt at the foot of the hill beside him. Immediately, he trotted over to the car, moving towards the driver's seat where his sister had called from only an hour before.

"No Cybertronian signals that I'm gettin', and there ain't any sign of organic matter in that mess, either… except…"

"For this," said Jeremy, crouching down by the driver's side door, where a slim streak of blood had stained the glass. It wasn't much, and it really shouldn't be enough to get worried about, but it was enough to make his stomach flop over on itself.

"An' this," Jazz said, motioning towards the rear passenger side. "Looks like they got a lil' roughed up by the fall. Might've had some injuries."

"But there are footprints," Jeremy pointed out, already following the trail into the woods. "They're alive and they're moving. Maybe we're not too late after all."

"Never thought we were."

.O.O.O.

From a hill approximately two miles away, a black and white Saleen Mustang observed the military search and rescue team sort through the mess he'd made of the forest, the one Autobot and numerous insects all searching for traces of the very thing he'd lost himself yet again. But not next time. He liked this game exceedingly well, but all pursuits had an endgame, and it was time that his favorite little fleshling played hers. The two Autobots that had swept her away were less intelligent than most of their kind – which was saying quite a lot – and it had taken a great deal of effort to suppress his mirth at the state of their communications programs. It had taken only a single, low intensity scan as he charged them for the first round of combat to discover their folly. Somehow the fools had managed to sabotage their own comms, and were completely cut off from the rest of their kind. They couldn't even send simple relays to each other.

And the team below him was clearly not in possession of these facts. He wondered, were they the only ones in the dark? There was a certain someone conspicuously missing from this scene, someone that had been missing from the scene for quite some time, and Barricade wondered just how deep in the dark his fellow Autobots had left him to wallow.

Barricade roused his systems and brought his comm. back online. He sent a simple, uncoded, unsigned transmission and waited.

'_Mirage here.'_

.O.O.O.

'_Barricade here.'_

Mirage was so startled by the voice that responded to him over his own comm. that he nearly tripped on thin air. He almost closed the channel that he'd opened by pure reflex, but the next wave of data froze him in place.

He saw the record of Barricade's thoughts playing out in his own processor. The chase – the woods dark on either side of him and the bright spots of taillights ahead, and then Astrid's face draining of color at the sight of him. The tumbling vehicle that he _knew_ contained his ward – watching as it spun and rolled, crashing into trees and skidding across the loose earth. And then Astrid's actual face staring in horror over her shoulder as the recorder charged her across an open field – no shelter, no more hidey-holes, nowhere to go, no one to catch her if Barricade should choose to repeat history and teach her to fly again. _Dear primus_.

The next wave of data contained only a simple text, but Mirage read it with more interest and care than the greatest piece of classic literature.

'_I am willing to negotiate.' _

A/N: If you are confused, all I can say is that things will be explained down the road. Have fun, my fellow finals-sufferers! As always, I will try to get around to replying to the regular reviews,

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	6. Of Traitors and Payphones

Disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue.

A/N: I have no words for how sorry I am that this took so long. About half a year is entirely too long, and I hope I haven't lost all of you lovely readers! This has been a very long and very rough semester for me, so I hope I can earn your forgiveness. I'm on vacation right now, so I can write a lot. When I get ten reviews, I WILL update! I will be starting the next chapter tonight just as soon as I have finished replying to the reviews for the last chapter.

Chapter Six: Of Traitors and Payphones

Mudflap did not stop until they had passed at least two state borders. Of course, seeing as how her eyes had been closed for a good half of the trip Astrid couldn't be sure that they hadn't passed more. Outside the scenery had changed from hilly forests to fields and farms, although it was difficult to see very far from the highway once the sun set. Astrid's forehead rested against the cool window, her eyes flicking from road stripe to road stripe to road stripe… they never seemed to end.

"I don't wanna sound like a whiny teenager or anything…"

"You are a whiny teenager," said Astrid. The back of her seat bounced, probably from Jess kicking it, and she smirked.

"As I was _saying_," Jess continued, "how much farther is it?"

"Ith what?" Mudflap replied.

Astrid could hear Jess beat her head once against the back of her seat. Mudflap must be _loving_ the beating he was getting.

"Is the place we're going?"

"Dunno."

Astrid's face left the window and she looked at the frowning red face on the steering wheel with disbelief. "You don't know? Seriously? You _told_ us you _did_."

"Oh, I can get uth there, I've jutht never been mythelf."

In the backseat Jess let out a grunt and Astrid heard her hit her head against the seat twice more. "Can you at least give us a _general_ idea where we're going?"

"Utah."

Once again, Astrid's skin met the window's glass, but this time instead of counting road stripes, she let her eyes fall shut and enjoyed the peace of pretending that she was riding in Mirage or Jazz – or even Ratchet – instead of this obnoxious, clueless, useless, idiot twin. Why Utah? What could possibly be in Utah?

"There'th a little thtore with a payphone you can uthe ta call th' otherth."

"And there are a thousand more just like it, I'm sure, between the east coast and Utah," said Jess, her tone going from tired to tetchy, "why couldn't we have stopped at one of those?"

"Becauth we wan'ed to ditth the rent-a-cop, didn' we?"

"And that just makes too much sense for my brain to handle right now."

"Told ya tho."

"Note the dripping sarcasm, rustbucket."

"How about you both stop bickering," Astrid snapped. "Or find me an Alieve. That would also work. Seeing as how you probably don't have a medkit, Mudflap, why don't you tell us the _real_ reason we're not stopping until we reach Utah?"

"Weelllll…"

"Weelllll what?" said Jess.

"The truth ith… we justh needed the _time_."

"What are you talking about?" said Astrid. "If there's one thing we don't have, it's time. Barricade doesn't give up – ever – as he has so lately proven, and if he isn't on our tail right now it probably means that he's up to something else, something worse, so please enlighten me as to why we are delaying calling for reinforcements?"

"Cauth we didn' wanna get into a lota trouble over all thith, yo," Mudflap said, somewhat bashfully. "Even genuithes need time to come up with a plan."

"So do you have one?" said Jess.

"Yeth, we do."

"Then _why_ haven't we stopped?"

"Becauth…"

"Their radios are still out," Astrid said. "They can't contact each other to arrange a new meeting place. I'm willing to bet that they haven't even been able to trade ideas about this new plan. They'll probably cobble it together when we reach Utah."

"We're _in_ Utah, yo."

"We are?" Jess sprang to the window, pressing her palms and nose flat on the glass. "Why aren't we stopping?"

"Becauth we ain't to the plathe yet."

Jess fell back into her seat, startling Kate who was sleeping beside her. "Sorry, roomie."

"How far out are we?"

"'Bout half 'n hour."

Fantastic, Astrid thought, then I can call up my brother's old military buddies from outer space, explain what I've been doing for the past several _years_ and then my life will be complete.

.O.O.O.

_I am willing to negotiate._

It was amazing how that one sentence could turn a loyal mech into a traitor.

_It's only a human, Mirage. _

His footsteps were heavy, but they were determined, and there was an aim to his pacing – the command center.

_Do you care more for some nameless human than for your own ward?_

The doors opened silently for him, just as they always did, and the other mechs in the room greeted him just as they usually did, oblivious to the change in his spark. He did what he was going to do out of loyalty… just not to the Autobots. Mirage kept telling himself that what he was about to do did not make him a Decepticon.

_The others have been withholding information from you. Find the human your friends, the little twins, are guarding. All I want is a location. One human, Mirage. I can even promise you that this human is unimportant. No one but this human's family and friends will even notice they're gone. _

What choice did he have?

_Meet my demands, spy, or I'll reopen the hole in your little fleshling's shoulder._

He had none.

.O.O.O.

Evenings were cold in Utah. Of course, evenings were cold most everywhere at this time of year. Astrid's breath steamed on the payphone's mouthpiece as she stood listening to the buzzing ring from the other end of the line. A rainbow of used gum was stuck on the sides of the little plastic dividers meant to provide the user with a scrap of privacy. Even if she'd been enclosed in one of those glass phone booths, though, Astrid knew that every word of her conversation would be overheard. The two little sports cars with their headlights beaming innocently at her didn't fool Astrid for a second.

When they'd first arrived at the little convenience store settled next to the exit ramp Mudflap had pulled into a parking space and locked the doors. He hadn't done it to be mean, but he clearly knew that he wasn't supposed to transform in public, and if he left the doors unlocked then Astrid could call before he and Skids had worked out their plan. Then the green twin – Skids – pulled into the next space, and the two engaged in a long discussion on what the best course of action was and who was the best sucker to pull into their scheme. They reminded Astrid of two second graders trying to figure out an excuse for not turning in their homework.

She'd mentioned aloud to them that she'd rather be with Sunny and Sides, _her_ twins, because at least they were clever enough to ad lib in a tight spot. None of this stopping and brainstorming crap.

There had been silence for a full minute. Then Mudflap had popped open her door, told her the right number to dial and given her a list of things to say and not to say.

The phone was still ringing. How hard was it to answer a phone? Geez. Even she could do that, and there wasn't that much she could do these days. "C'mon guys," she muttered, "just pick up the friggin' phone."

There was a click.

"Yo, this is Sides, but that's my problem, what's yours?"

"I'm stuck with the universe's two biggest idiots, that's my problem." Skids and Mudflap both honked. There was silence on the other end of the line.

"Astrid? Where are you? Ratchet's going psycho! Well, more than usual. Seriously, though, where the heck are you? Are you ok?"

"I'm with Mudflap and Skids and I'm fine. They might be thicker than Jenna's skull, but they do have good timing."

"Yeah, well, I'm glad that you've made some new friends, girl, but _where are you?_"

"I'm… not allowed to tell you."

"What? Seriously? Did those two punks put you up to this?"

"Yeah. They kinda did." Another dual honk.

"What do they want? Are they holding you hostage or something? Cause if they are I can rip their fenders off and…"

"That won't be necessary, Sideswipe. They're just afraid of getting into trouble."

"So they had you call me? Why?"

"Because they can make you ask Prime to forgive them. If they asked Prime themselves then he could just order them to talk, but you can't."

"I could just relay the order, you know."

"You know that and I know that, but do you really think those two are bright enough to think that far ahead?"

"Not really, no."

"Fantastic. Now go talk to Prime because I am freezing my butt off out here."

A/N: So, it's entirely too short after the wait I made you all go through, but I hope you review anyway and help me get the umpha to finish this baby over the summer. Looking forward to hearing from all of you! Please leave a review to give me fuel, my friends!

Reviews to those without accounts:

HiddenWithinMyself: Thanks for the review! Yeah, the twins can be pretty dumb, but that's what makes them fun to write. Of course Mirage has to come in and deal with stuff. You didn't think I would've left him out of the whole thing, did you? Here is the long awaited chapter! Enjoy!

GodisGod!iamnot: Hello again! Thanks for the review! The lisp is hard to read. Hopefully I'll get the hang of it soon, though. Thanks for the encouragement, and I hope to hear from you again!

wsprite_ad: Thank you very much! That is quite a compliment, and I'm so glad you're enjoying the read. I do have more planned, so I hope to hear from you again along the way!

Alihag: Thank you very much for the review! Well, that's fine that it took you so long to review. It took me a while to update. *Blush* Well, thank you for all of the encouragement, and I hope to hear from you again soon!

LoveTheLilac: Thank you very much! I will not let this story die, and I hope you don't stop reviewing!


	7. Of Official Plans and Happy Mothers

Disclaimer: Me no own and you no sue, dooda, dooda...

A/N: So, sorry, I broke my promise by two reviews. I actually had this done a while ago, but my darling beta reader was busier than I was, and also when she replied she failed to tell me WHERE the errors were. Oh, well, I still love my Blond Indonesian (it's a long story). She really is blond, and grew up in Indonesia. She will ALWAYS have a better childhood story. But that is incredibly off topic. THANK YOU ALL FOR NOT GIVING UP ON ME! On with the show!

Chapter Seven: Of Official Plans and Happy Mothers

_Subject located. North America. Utah. Calling from payphone at Brad and Tom's 24 hour service store. Autobots Skids and Mudflap on site and in possession. Next action in deliberation._

Mirage disengaged from the system and watched with forced disinterest as the chord wound itself back into his arm. Just one human. Barricade had sworn. But what use was the word of a Decepticon? Mirage remembered the night Astrid had been stolen from him the first time, when she had come to the Autobots' medical tent to check in on him. He had been angry and stupid, and she'd been angry and right. She hadn't left the other humans behind because abandoning them to her enemies was wrong. He hadn't cared, but as far as he was concerned she was the only human that mattered.

He hadn't changed his mind.

.O.O.O.

The information rushed over the open line and into Barricade's processor. His tires squealed as he performed a perfectly illegal u-turn on the highway he was travelling on and his engine gunned itself.

Mirage's information came at a good time.

According to the fresh coordinates, his prey was close.

.O.O.O.

"What should I relay to Astrid, sir?" Sideswipe asked.

Prime pressed his servos against the table, mindful of his strength and careful not to dent the metal. Air cycled through his vents quietly, and he took a moment to ignore his soldier and thank Primus for small favors. Astrid, her two friends and his wayward soldiers had found each other and were safe. They had lost Barricade and now they had reached a safe place to communicate with them. The twins would not get off the hook for their behavior, but their punishments would be significantly lessened. As for the moment…

"While they have outrun Barricade for the moment, they have also outrun any potential aid," Prime paused and glanced towards the door as Prowl stepped into the room.

"I received your comm., sir," said the strategist. "Have you decided our next course of action?"

"No, but whatever we decide, they cannot stay where they are."

"No, they cannot," Prowl agreed. "If that is decided, then there are only two matters to decide: how to bring them to definite safety, and where to instruct them to hide until our troops arrive."

"Fenner might be happiest if his sister were left in the keeping of other military personnel, sir," Sideswipe suggested. "There are several bases that they could reach."

"Without alerting Barricade?" asked Prowl. "He is a scout, and he is no fool. He will be watching military bases or other stations of authority. I suggest something more discreet."

"Please share your thoughts, Prowl," said Prime. "The sooner they reach a place of safety, the better."

Prowl straightened and said, "The Witwicky family home would provide adequate shelter until our forces arrive on the scene. They are familiar with our kind and have several means of communication with us at their disposal. What is more, Bumblebee is there with Sam Witwicky and Mikaela Banes. They only just returned for the Witwicky boy's 'spring break.' Even if Barricade suspects such a place, which I doubt he will, Bumblebee should be able to keep him at bay."

"Very good." Prime shut his optics and let the air leave his intake vents with a rush. "Pass on the word. We must assemble a team."

"Yes, sir." Sideswipe saluted and marched off to share the results of the meeting with Astrid Fenner, but Prowl lingered at his leader's side.

"I suggest a small strike team, sir," said Prowl. "The more mechs, the more attention will be drawn to the convoy."

"Yes, once again I agree with you, Prowl," said Optimus. "Ratchet ought to go. Although she didn't inform Sideswipe of any injuries, the girls might be injured from their encounter with Barricade. I would also like to have the twins' comlinks repaired as soon as possible. And of course wherever Ratchet goes, Jenna must go as well. She would hardly allow herself to be left behind for such a mission, anyway."

Prowl rumbled deep in his chasis and Optimus cocked an optic ridge at him. "What is it, friend? Do you have so little confidence in our civilian liaison's skills?"

"In short, sir, yes. I do. She has proven time and again to be unreliable, irresponsible and grossly illogical. She is hardly a match for Barricade."

"True, but she _is_ a match for Astrid, and we need someone to handle her as much as we need someone to handle the Decepticon."

"Yes, sir."

Prime smirked. "But, just in case you don't think that she is enough to bring in our target, have the second set of twins accompany her and Ratchet. They'll be useful to keep the smaller set in line during the return trip if nothing else." His strategist was clearly not pleased, but Optimus could feel the first stirrings of good humor churning up in his spark. "Send a record of our decisions to Jazz's team. Have them rendezvous with Ratchet's team and our targets at the Witwicky house."

.O.O.O.

Astrid puffed out a white breath as she huddled against Mudflap's half-closed passenger door. She could see Kate and Jess inside the store, buying up a good meal's worth of snack cakes and cheap potato chips. Ratchet would kill her when the met again. She hadn't seen a vegetable in a week.

"If you're cold, yo, you could just slip inside," Skids, the green car suggested in a stage whisper.

"No, it's alright." Astrid tucked her hands securely under her arms and hunkered down against the warm metal. "I told Jess that I would be responsible for her safety."

"Hey, thath our job, yo."

"I know, but I still promised."

"Humanth are weird."

"So are you."

"Yo fathe is weird."

"And this is coming from a compact car that turns into one of the wonkiest alien robots I have ever seen. I'll keep that in mind, thanks. You do know where we're going this time, right?"

"Duh, yo," said Skids. "All Autobots know where the Witwicky kid and his folks live. It's like national security or somethin'."

"For a college kid you really are thtupid thomtimeth."

"Hey, I haven't been a college kid for a while now," said Astrid. She nodded towards the two girls shuffling towards the cashier. "That's their department now."

"Then what's yo's?"

Astrid kicked a piece of broken bottle glass between the two cars and watched as the moonlight cut along one of the broken edges with a sharp gleam. After a couple turns, it came to rest, and the rounded glass reflected a convex image of the stars spinning slowly by. "I'll tell you when I figure that out."

"Humanth really are weird, yo."

Astrid's two newest friends finally came out of the store, arms loaded with salty and sugary snacks. If they threw a few cans of pop into the mix they'd have an instant Ratchet-will-beat-all-that-crap-back-out-of-you cocktail. Astrid remembered when Jeremy and some of the other military personnel had tried to have a similar feast on base- right under Ratchet's nose. The medic bot had not been happy, and Jeremy claimed that the bruise on his rear hadn't faded for three weeks.

Smiling, Astrid waved the two girls over and slid into Mudflap's passenger seat. "They called back. We know where we're going now."

"Where we're going?" Jess asked. "We're going somewhere? Why can't we pitch camp here and wait for the cavalry to arrive?"

"Because Barricade is too smart for his own good, and I really don't want to play that whole cat and mouse game again." Astrid caught a whiff of a speed-generated breeze from the highway and breathed in the smells of asphalt, rubber and diesel fumes. "The longer we stay in one place the more likely it is that he'll find us again."

Kate signed something quickly to Jess, and Skids honked in approval. "The K-girl's all for this plan, so let's get rollin'. Tanglin' with that Barricade fool is no fun."

Astrid shut her door and buckled her seatbelt as the other two girls piled in behind her. Skids honked and made a lewd comment about the number of girls hitching a ride with his twin, Mudflap replied that he was 'jutht jealouth,' and they shot back out onto the highway. Not one of the five travelers noticed the black and white shadow creeping along in their wake, just barely in sensor range.

.O.O.O.

It was a calm quiet night in Tranquility, and the Witwicky house was, as usual, ground zero for the storm of the century.

"Sam! Your car is trying to get your attention! Go and put a restrictor plate on the stupid thing, will you? Or kill its horn? I thought the dumb thing was supposed to be mute! If it keeps this up it'll wake up the whole neighborhood."

Sam Witwicky flew – almost literally – down the stairs, stumbling over his untied shoelaces and staining the walls with his handprints as he tried to catch his balance. "I'm coming, Mom, I'm coming. And a restrictor plate has nothing to do with noise, it isn't a muzzle for cars. And you know I really can't get him to stop it because he's a…"

"Oh, whatever, just shut the car up, would you?"

"Yes, Mom." Eyes bulging from the all too familiar rush of frustration, panic and adrenaline, Sam hurried out the back door, catching his foot in the screen on his way and stepping on Frankie's paw as he hurried across his father's 'path' through the grass. Holding his hands out to his guardian Autobot, Sam rapidly began trying to resolve the situation. Wasn't that supposed to be Bumblebee's job? Why was Sam always the one resolving things? Why was Bumblebee always starting them? Why didn't his mom go to the doctor and get medicated?

"Shhhh! Sssshhhh! Sh! Man, Mom is ticked! What is it? What could possibly be so important at three in the morning? Jeez, Bee, I was sleeping, you know? Seriously, sleeping. Deep sleeping. Like REM, like out of it, like unconscious, and then you go and start playing the flugelhorn out here. So, seriously, what's so important that it couldn't wait, like, four or five hours?"

"_Dude! It's a party!" _

Sam had long since given up trying to figure out where all of the sound bites his car came from. He groaned and smacked his forehead into Bee's hood. "Huh?"

"Two Autobots, three humans, incoming," Bee reported in a slightly scratchy voice.

"Incoming? You mean, like, coming _here?_"

"_Affirmative, Captain." _

"I thought I told you to cut it with all the Star Trek, Bee. I am not a Trekkie, especially after meeting you guys. It's like Barney in the eyes of someone who digs up dinosaur bones for a living."

"They will be here tomorrow," said Bee. He paused and then added, "I am sorry, Sam, but this is an emergency. One of the humans is the Fenner girl, Astrid."

"You mean the one you told me about all those years ago? The one Mirage is always so grumpy over nowadays?"

"Yes."

"Holy… Why is she coming here? I thought she'd cut off all contact."

"She did. Barricade made her change her mind."

"_Barricade?_" Sam squawked like a chicken and dove for Bee's door, slipping inside to safety before the Autobot could even process the strange sound his charge had just made. All these years, and the strange little human could still surprise him. Of course, Sam did, after all, 'scream like a girl' as the humans said.

"They have lost him for the moment, but your home is one of the only places they could go without drawing attention to themselves."

"What's so safe about my house?"

"Me."

"Oh, right."

Frankie whined outside.

"You should tell your mother."

"Be my guest. I'll tell her after breakfast."

.O.O.O.

The sun rose, rush hour traffic commenced and Judy Witwicky began making breakfast for herself, her husband and her idiot son who had YET to move out of the house. She cracked some eggs against the rim of her mixing bowl with a little more force that was necessary. He was getting to be a bum. It was about time he married that girlfriend of his and got a place of his own somewhere.

To be fair, though, it wasn't like he really even lived in the house anymore. He spent his time travelling around the country with that car of his on 'official' trips to Washington, New York and all sorts of military bases, and when he wasn't doing that he was off with Mikaela or his alien buddies. Judy tossed some bread into the toaster and sniffled a little. She liked Mikaela, mostly because she was a girl. Judy never got a little girl. She wanted grandbabies. Lots of them. And if Sam didn't give her loads of cute little girls to dress in pink and take on shopping trips then she'd…

"Hey, Mom…?" Her son stood a few feet away, looking anxious. Actually, he looked like he was constipated, but Judy had figured out that the constipated face was actually her little boy's anxious face when he was around twelve. All those bottles of pepto bismal she'd bought for him…

"What is it?" She hadn't forgiven him or his alien car for her early wake-up call. A woman at her age needed her beauty sleep.

"Uh, well, you see, the thing last night was about, well, Bee said that, uh, you should probably make some more food."

Judy set down the egg whisk that she'd been holding onto and glared at her son. "Spit it out, Sam. What new catastrophe is about to end the world that requires more food? Is Miles bringing his big dumb dog over?"

"Nonononono! Nothing like that! It's actually a good thing, sorta, well, it depends, on what you think a good thing is I mean, but, yeah, uh, Bee says that we've got some company coming."

"Company?" She remembered the last time the leader of the Autobots had been in her yard all too clearly.

"Yeah, um, a couple Autobots, really little ones, and three girls. They're on the run from Barricade, the cop car that you never actually met, but…"

"Girls!" Judy leapt to hug her son. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears. In a weepy voice she asked, "Really?"

"Yeah, Mom, really," Sam looked nervous. "Three of them."

"Oh, horrAY!" Judy Witwicky darted to her refrigerator and began rummaging through it for supplies. "We'll need food! Lots more food! Oh! And beds! They'll be here for at least one night, right? And you said they were being chased, so they probably need showers…"

"Uh, Mom?"

"Not now, honey! We're having guests over!"

A/N: Alright, so confession time. Judy Witwicky annoys the living daylights out of me, but that's ok, because she's very unusual to write, which makes life interesting. I hope you enjoyed! Kindly leave a donation in the review box below!

Replies to those without accounts:

HiddenWithinMyself: Great to hear from you again! I'm glad you get vacation, too, and I hope you enjoy it. Hope to hear from you again!

Erin: Thanks for the review! Yes, I love the two of them so long as they're on screen, but I hate little kids like that. Big kids like that are worse. Hope to hear from you again soon!

GodisGodiamnot: Hello again! I was afraid that I'd lost you! I haven't given up, and some day I'll finish that other one... or delete it... we shall see... Hope to hear from you again soon!


	8. Of Tattos and More Tattoos

Disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue

A/N: I'm late, I'm late! I am very sorry for my tardiness, but I've been having issues with stuff lately, and very little of ANYTHING has been getting done. This coming semester I will be studying overseas (NORTHERN IRELAND!) and, to put it bluntly, there will not be time for fanfiction. So either I can get motivated - and I would need your help - and get this finished before I go, or I will put this on hiatus until at least December, when I get back. Let me know what you think. Another problem is that fanfiction is actually starting to interfere with my regular writing, and that's a big problem. This might be the last fic for a while, apart from random one-shots and such. Feedback would be great, because I'm really frustrated with myself right now.

Chapter Eight: Of Tattoos and More Tattoos

The twins didn't reach the Witwicky house until late morning. It was already hot in sandy little Tranquility and the girls felt stuffy and awkward in their east coast clothing. Astrid was especially reluctant to climb out of the front seat, her thoughts focused uncomfortably on the Autobot who guarded the place, but the two passengers in the back did not share her qualms. Jess gave the back of her seat a swift kick and Astrid yelped as she bit down on her tongue.

"Are we going to sit here all day?" Jess demanded. "Come on, move!"

"Right." Astrid unbuckled her seatbelt. "Sorry."

"Don't worry, doll," said Mudflap. "The Witwickys are good folkth."

"Yeah, I'm sure," said Astrid. Honestly, it wasn't the humans that scared her. Even their perfectly manicured house and lawn weren't _that_ intimidating. It was the yellow Camero that Skids had parked next to that worried her. He gave no indication that he'd noticed her, but Astrid knew he couldn't have missed the twins' jubilant, horn-honking entrance. Absently, she leaned down to rub her aching leg. Jess, stretching and yawning, sauntered to Astrid's side and looked at the yellow sports car appreciatively. She whistled low.

"Not a bad car," she said.

"Thank you."

Bee's scratchy voice sent Jess leaping a foot in the air and squawking like a parrot. "Ohmigosh, it's another one!"

With a roll of her shoulders instead of her eyes, Astrid brushed off Jess's surprise and enthusiasm. "Of course he is."

Jess blinked at her and then shrugged herself. "I don't think I'll ever get you, you know?" Without another word to the girl who had dragged her into this mess, Jess marched over to the bright yellow car and took up a position between the headlights. "Hi."

"_Hello, oh, I love you, won't you tell me your name?_"

For a second the sudden switch to 'radio speak' clearly startled the girl and for a second the growly voice of _The Newlydeads_ made her start back a few steps. But she quickly laughed it off. "Good choice of music, man."

"_If the shoe fits…_"

Jess snorted as she looked down at herself. Though she was still plastered over in mud and leaves from their midnight run through the woods, it was hard to hide her affinity for black. "Yeah… name's Jess, by the way."

"Bumblebee."

Astrid saw Jess's lip twitch, but she covered it well.

"OH MY GOSH!"

Astrid and Jess started at the shriek and Kate followed their eyes to see what all the jumping was about. A woman – whom Astrid could only assume was Mrs. Witwicky – came crashing through the screen door with her arms and smile open like she was welcoming back childhood friends.

"You finally made it!" she cried, hurrying across the yard.

A boy popped his head out the door immediately after the woman. He looked pale despite his tan, and his eyes were boggling out of his face. "M-mom?"

His mother ignored him. "We were so worried about you when we heard! Oh, are you alright? Do you want breakfast? Or a shower?" She touched Jess's arm. Staring into her face and probably mistaking the raccoon eyes from her makeup as dark circles from sleep deprivation, she added, "I can put on some coffee. Would you like a cup of coffee?"

Astrid reached up to scratch her scalp and came back with a twig. "I could go for a shower, thanks."

"Right! Ok then! This way, girls!" Still speaking, she ushered – or rather herded – the girls inside.

Sam, who had stumbled along after his mother in a vain attempt to control her, was now left standing alone with the three Autobots.

"Hey, Witwiky!" Skids called. "I'd like a bath, too!"

"Oo, yeah," said Mudflap, "and thome wax, too."

Sam stuttered and blanched, back stepping rapidly towards the house as the twins increased their barrage of requests. To Sam's eternal gratitude, Bee silenced them both with a single warning honk.

O.O.O.

The shower was divine, and when Astrid finally emerged in her clean borrowed clothes, she thought she might actually feel good. The sweats she was wearing were on loan from Mrs. Witwicky ("Oh, please, call me Judy!"), but the baggy long-sleeved shirt had been an involuntary donation from the son. First, Judy had tried to offer her an old tank top, but a few mumbled words about a skin condition had gotten her the clothing she desired in one minute flat. Astrid didn't care if she was wearing some strange guy's stolen clothing – at least it kept her covered.

Kate was waiting by the door to take her turn with the shower. She looked relieved to be escaping from the kitchen, and, by extension, Judy's well meaning awkwardness ("Oh, you're deaf? That's terrible! Well, here, I'LL TALK REALLY LOUD FOR YOU, OK?"). As Astrid left, Kate ducked in with a pile of fluffy towels and more borrowed clothing. Astrid, now satisfied with her personal hygiene and eager to stuff her gut, hurried back down the stairs, into the kitchen and over to the table. The table was loaded with all forms of breakfast food. Waffles and syrup were set at one end all manner of cereals, muffins and bagels were spread out behind them.

"Do you not get company very often, Mrs. Witwicky?"

The lady of the house pointed a butter knife at her and shook it enough to send gobs of yelly spattering all over the table. "Not girls," she said. "At least not girls besides Miraela, and she's hardly ever here anymore. Neither is Sam, and I'm too old to thrown my own sleepovers. And I already told you, it's Judy." Once she'd finished defending herself, Judy finished smearing jelly over the bagel she was preparing and handed it to Jess. Her attention now diverted to the black-clad and unshowered girl at the table, she asked, "are all those tattoos real?"

"Most of them," Jess said around a mouthful of breakfast. "Some are henna, though."

"You know," Judy said, leaning conspiratorially across the table, "I got a tattoo myself once."

Astrid grabbed for the crunchiest cereal she could reach as she tried to fight back the awful suspicion that she did not want to hear the rest of this story. Her hand had only just reached the box when Judy Witwicky opened her mouth again, and Astrid knew that the crunchiness would come too late.

"It was a…"

The son, Sam, chose that moment to burst in through the back screen door and Astrid prayed that the boy would be blest forever for his timing.

"Uh, hey," he said. The poor guy's eyes were still bugging out of his head and Astrid wondered briefly if he had some sort of condition.

"Hey," said Jess. Mrs. Witwicky leaned back, clearly disappointed.

"Uh." Sam wiped some of the sweaty shine from his face. "Bee wants to talk to Astrid for a bit, you know, about some… stuff."

In under a second Astrid had popped up from the table and flown to the door. "Yeah, sure, whatever!" As much as she feared what the scout might quiz her over, she was more afraid of what Judy Witwicky had to show her.

The screen door cracked shut at her heels and some of Astrid's enthusiasm drained away at the sight of the sunny yellow Camero waiting for her. Judy Witwicky's tinny voice, however, kept her from retreating back inside.

"Astrid Fenner."

She shuffled forward, looking at anything but Bee. Eventually her eyes found the pavement. Everything was too bright to look at for long. But by the time she stood a yard away from Bee's bumper she had gathered the courage to face him again. No way was she going back inside. She glared into the windshield, determined to prove... something.

Bee's voice was much gentler than she'd expected when he finally spoke. "I am very glad to see you again. We were all concerned when you disappeared."

"All of you? Really?" There was no way to hide the derision in her voice, and her arms crossed over her chest of their own volition.

"Really, Astrid."

She looked away again, glanced back after a second and said, "What was it you needed to discuss with me that was so urgent?"

"Have you discovered any new information concerning the tattoo on your friend's shoulder?"

"No, I haven't." She shifted into a less defensive posture. "There hasn't been much of an opportunity. We just got here, and I didn't think it was a great idea to discuss that sort of personal history while we were riding in the blabbermouth over there."

"You jutht thut yo' mouth."

"That was probably a very wise decision," said Bee.

"So what's the next step?" asked Astrid.

"Ratchet and the other twins are incoming," said Bee. "Jenna is coming with them. Your brother and Jazz's team are also en route. They should all be here by tomorrow morning or late this evening, and at that time we can make further plans."

"Well that's just... peachy."

"I understand that this may not be the reunion that you'd desired, but in order to protect everyone who is now involved, we need your cooperation."

The sun was entirely too bright. Astrid kneaded her knuckles into her eyes and huffed a breath that ruffled her bangs. She decided that it would probably be better to pretend that her eyes had not gotten misty at the mention of so many old names.

.O.O.O.

There was an old study on the Witwicky's second floor that had been halfway converted into a guest room at some point, and which Judy had apparently tried to finish in the few hours before the visitors' arrival. Two single beds had been wedged into the narrow room and a third bed of sleeping bags, spare blankets, pillows and sheets had been arranged on the floor in a cushy heap. Scattered around the beds were boxes of papers, a scarred old computer desk and old video games from the nineties. Jess called the floor after listening to the horrible squeaks from the two beds. She said she'd rather have a stiff back than keep herself awake all night with such horrible noises. Kate couldn't care less what sort of sounds her bed made and Astrid had spent enough time living with 'the other half' that a squeaky bed was hardly worth mentioning.

Astrid climbed the stairs, leaving the loudly speaking Judy with poor Kate, and walked into the guest room to find Jess toweling off her hair. She sat like a black spider in the middle of the floor with her long legs thrown helter skelter beneath her and her twiggy arms flying around her head, as if she was weaving something over her head. Her clothes were black again. Judy seemed to respect the girl's need for the dark, just as she respected Astrid's need for modesty. Unlike Astrid, though, Jess had been gifted with an old tank top, and her white arms were covered over in a web of ink.

"Hey," said Jess. "What's up? You look… awkward."

"Well, I have sort of an awkward question."

Jess raised her eyebrows.

"Could I see the tattoo on your shoulder again?"

"Which one?"

"The one that looks like an angry face."

Jess seemed to get stiffer as she rubbed the towel around her hair, and when she spoke her humor seemed forced. "That old thing? Why? Planning on getting one yourself?"

"No," Astrid said a little too quickly. "It's just… that tattoo…"

"Is what set you off in my dorm room. Is why you dragged me and Kate across the country with a rapid robo cop hot on our bumper. Yeah, I figured that. Why are you so freaked over it?"

"Well, that face…" Astrid lowered herself carefully onto the bed, but the stupid thing still shrieked like it was in pain. "If you would've looked carefully at Barricade, you would've seen that he has one, too. Several, actually."

Jess put down her towel. "That's ridiculous. It doesn't even make sense. Do you think the thing kidnapped my tattoo artist and forced them to give him a wicked paintjob?"

"No, I think there's more behind that tattoo than a some fun body art. It's the symbol of the Decepticons."

"Speak English."

"The good robots are the Autobots – the twins, Bumblebee, the people I talked to on the phone. The bad ones – like Barricade – are Decepticons. They're from another planet, and they just happened to bring their war here. The difference between the two factions is that the Autobots recognize us as equals and the Decepticons think that slave labor would be too good for us."

"You really ought to sell some of these ideas to the Scifi Channel, you know? You might make some money."

"Oh, come on, Jess! You've seen this stuff with your own eyes. Is the fact that they're extraterrestrials really so hard to swallow?"

Jess kicked herself to her feet and marched out the door. "I'm not listening until you start making sense."

"I AM making sense."

"Shut-up." Then Jess trotted away down the stairs, clearly eager to escape her 'friend's' company.

Even before she heard Jess hit the bottom of the stairs, Astrid flopped back on the bed (_**Squeak**_) and watched the sun turn rosy outside the window. It was almost evening, and she still hadn't found anything new about that awful tattoo.

Defensive. Jess had been so very defensive. Astrid grunted and rolled over onto her side. Why now? She'd handled herself so well when they were attacked the first time, and once she'd accepted the fact that there was such a thing as talking, shape-shifting cars she'd even been civil with them. The tattoo had put her on the defensive quicker than Astrid had expected. It was possible that she was defending herself, or defending her past, or maybe just trying to ignore something. People were always defensive when they were scared. So what made the tattoo scarier than a deranged cop car with a cannon?

Review Replies for Those Without Accounts:

GodisGodandiamnot: Thanks for the review! Yeah, I get what you mean, no worries. One of the things I actually pick at myself for is not having characters individual ENOUGH, so that's a bit of a relief for me. Hope to hear from you again soon!

HiddenWithinMyself: Thanks for the review! I hope you enjoyed Judy in this chapter! Hope to hear from you again!

fruityloops87: Thanks for the review! I'll keep it going, I'm just not sure about when. ,


	9. Of Girlfriends and End Games

Disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue.

A/N: LONG time no update. The good news is, I had a BLAST in IRELAND. I want to go back. I'm homesick. I got to work at the Verbal Arts Centre in Derry. It was brilliant. I got addicted to take away fish and chips. That said, I have an ultimatum for you all. The first option is that I pick up the ball and update from here on out like a good little author (meaning REGULARLY), but I'll need reviews. I'm going to say around eight or so of them. Why? Because I'm a review hog, get used to it. And I need some way to justify writing this when I should be writing regular fiction for my two senior-level fiction courses, or my departmental honors project, or any of my other school work. Classes don't start for a little while, so we've got a little time. The other option is that I wait until summertime when the next Transformers movie comes out and a whole new wave of readership crashes through FFN. I'll leave it up to you guys.

**_Don't forget to review!_**

Chapter Nine: Of Girlfriends and End Games

There was precious little time remaining for Barricade to make his move. His unwilling spy had been of great use, and now Barricade possessed the itineraries he needed in order to carry through his objective. Autobot Jazz and his team would reach the Witwicky home in four hours. Ratchet's team would reach it in ten. By the time the backup arrived, everything would be over with, and this game would be ended.

.O.O.O.

When Astrid returned to the kitchen for dinner, Jess was nowhere to be seen. She glanced at Kate, who was sitting with an open sketchpad at the table.

"Where is Jess?"

Kate shrugged and glanced back to her work. Astrid was about to question her further, but her train of thought was abruptly derailed by the slamming screen door. Expecting, of course, to find either Judy or Sam standing behind her, Astrid was rather surprised to find a slim, young beauty with big eyes gawking at her.

"Um," Astrid glanced around the kitchen and down at her borrowed clothes. "Hi."

"Hi." The other girl edged in and also looked around the kitchen and down at Astrid's borrowed clothes.

"Er, I'm Astrid. That's Kate."

The stranger seemed even more surprised by the presence of the second girl, who was also wearing borrowed clothes. "I'm… Mikaela. Um," she tucked some hair behind her ear and smiled the toothy little smile that all women unsure of their situation smile to those who might be encroaching on their territory, "Sam didn't tell me he was having guests over." She fiddled some more with her hair and cocked out a hip. "I'm, um, Sam's girlfriend."

"What?" Astrid blinked, then her eyes grew large. "Oh, no. No, no, no. This isn't what you think – what it looks like. It's nothing like that. We're not guests. Well, I mean we are, but not _that_ kind of guest, you know? We're more like, erm, refugees."

"Refugees?" Now that Mikaela seemed sure that she was the dominant female in this situation, and that the intruder was the one on shaky footing, she pressed her advantage. Her frustrations and fears were embodied by a lifted eyebrow and sardonic twist in her words as she said, "From where? New York?"

Scuffing the tips of her toes on the floor, Astrid blushed and mumbled, "New Jersey, more like."

Any further awkwardness was nipped in the bud by the arrival of the man of the hour himself – Sam Witwicky – who came crashing through the screen door with a look of utter horror on his face. "Mikaela," he squeaked.

"Hi, Sam." She looked like an ice queen.

"Well." He folded his hands and glanced quickly around at the three girls, all of whom were now watching him intently. Even Kate had laid down her pencil for the occasion. "This, you know, is not at all what it looks like, because what it looks like is something very, very bad, which it's not! These are – uh – friends, and they are, uh, staying the night, here, you know – but in another room! – because they are, uh, on the run. From Decepticons!"

"You guys are being chased by Decepticons?"

Astrid decided to ignore the incredulity in Mikaela's voice.

"Well, a Decepticon," Sam amended. "Barricade, actually. The demon cop car from…"

"_Barricade?_" Mikaela suddenly seemed a lot more interested. "But no one's heard anything from or about him for years." Then, slowly, her eyes slipped back to Astrid. "What was your name again?"

"Astrid."

"Fenner?"

"The one and only."

"Oh my gosh! You're that girl that left the Autobots a few years ago, Mirage's charge, right?"

Why did every connection she had with the Autobots always boil down to her relationship with Mirage? "I guess so."

"So why is Barricade chasing you?" Mikaela asked. "You left, right?"

"I did leave, and I don't know why. If I did know I probably wouldn't be here right now. Besides, it's not just me. I renewed contact because of Jess… speaking of, have you seen her, Sam?"

"Jess?" Mikaela asked.

"No." Sam looked confused. "I thought she was still upstairs."

"There's another one?" Mikaela asked.

"I can explain," said Sam.

"Jessica is no longer on the Witwicky property." Bee's holoform stood in the doorway. "She left approximately ten minutes ago in the direction of the outskirts of town."

"And you let her go?" said Astrid. "What is wrong with you? Barricade is still out there."

"Yes, but it seems highly unlikely that he would recognize her as a target. From the information you have given me," said Bee, "it would appear that you, Astrid are Barricade's target. He probably never had the inclination or the opportunity to get a thorough scan of Jessica. So long as she doesn't do something incredibly 'stupid' then he would most likely fail to recognize her."

"Ah, yes, well, college students are just so well known for NOT doing incredibly 'stupid' things," Astrid said, marking the air with imaginary quotation marks.

"You may disagree with my judgment, but she is not a hostage, and she had every right to leave," said Bee. "What is more, she seemed incredibly upset. I take it your conversation did not go well."

"No, not at all. Maybe she's bipolar or something."

"I do not believe so."

At that moment Kate lunged from the table and began insistently tugging at Astrid's sleeve, snapping her fingers in her face.

"What?" Astrid demanded.

Kate wrinkled her brows together and pointed at Bee. Astrid had no need of Jess's translating skills. "He's a hologram. The yellow car outside is projecting him."

For a second Kate seemed even more confused, but then she tapped her temple and grinned. In another second she was back to scratching at her sketchpad.

"She gets it."

"So, what now?" Mikaela asked. "Your friend might be safe from Barricade, but she's still walking around alone in an unfamiliar city."

"Hey, Bee and me can go get her," said Sam.

"But what if Barricade goes after YOU?" Mikaela asked.

By the door, Bee's hologram straightened. "Then I will handle him."

Minutes later, when Judy Witwicky rattled into the driveway in the non-sentient family car, the kitchen was practically deserted. Only three were left. She looked around in confusion, holding up bags of Chinese carryout. "I thought Sam and Jess were eating with us."

"They'll be back later," Mikaela said with a charming smile.

.O.O.O.

Mirage had shut down as many unnecessary systems as he could. Systems unnecessary for basic functions, systems unnecessary for self preservation, systems unnecessary for saving his charge. Systems that might kill her. Might kill Astrid. One more moment of guilt and he'd crack, he'd spill, and Barricade would crush her. He didn't need the systems. He didn't need to think beyond his current task, and he certainly did not need to savor his current emotions.

_Traitor._

He was researching the latest reports on Decepticon activity in North America, using his training and knowledge as a spy to assess the information from a different point of view. Prowl was a brilliant strategist, but Prime wanted as many optics to review the data as he could get. Different optics might see different patterns. There were no patterns. It was random. The Decepticons had failed to regroup after the death of the Fallen, and now they were striking out in petty blind attempts to stir up trouble. If his mission had failed, that was what he would have tried, after all. It was part of his job description as a spy.

_Traitor_.

Mirage shuttered his optics and took a precious moment to get himself under control. Three more systems were shut down. He could reboot them later, when Astrid was sitting in his hands arguing with him. Or she could be silent. It didn't matter. So long as he had her with him somewhere safe.

At that moment the doors nearest him fell open to admit Prowl and Wheeljack, who were deep in the sort of discussion Mirage would need to report later to Barricade.

"The twins arrived at the Witwicky residence. The last report from Bumblebee indicated that they are having some difficulties with the marked girl Astrid was escorting, but there has been no sign of any serious trouble."

There was a twinge of unease. All those buried systems strained against the locks preventing them from doing their jobs. _Astrid?_

"She always was one for dramatics, wasn't she? Well, I suppose all this mayhem is a proper reintroduction for her. Astrid always knew how to make an entrance," Wheeljack chirped.

"A – strid?"

Wheeljack started and his head fins flushed with embarrassment as he noticed Mirage's presence. Prowl looked on as impassively as ever. Mirage's systems were going into shock.

"My apologies," said Prowl. "Prime decided that it would be in the best interests of all to not relay these developments to you. I will contact him immediately."

"Astrid," Mirage repeated. He looked between to the two, desperate, pleading. "Astrid is with the twins – Skids and Mudflap?"

"Affirmative. They made contact some hours ago. You are going into shock. Please accompany me to Prime's office."

Mirage dropped to his knees, shaking. Red lights flashed across his optics, warning him of rising stress and pressure levels, alerting him to the dozens of crashing systems. He laughed. Loudly and like a human. "I've killed her. I've killed Astrid Fenner."

.O.O.O.

Jess had been gone for thirty minutes when it started to rain. First came a silver drizzle that made the grass sparkle and gleam in dusk's last light. After that, once the dark had swallowed Tranquility, the rain grew harder. There was no wind to drive it against the houses, so it doused everything equally under a heavy, cold blanket. It would soak anyone stupid or unlucky enough to be caught outside to the bone.

Soon it was late. Mrs. Witwicky went to bed, wishing her two guests goodnight and killing the lights on the way to her room. Mikaela went home to await developments – and Sam. It was very dark in the impromptu bedroom the girls shared, and only the occasional set of passing headlights set the drops on the window shining. It was very dark, and Astrid snuggled deeper under her borrowed covers, afraid.

In the bed across from her, Kate rolled and squirmed as she hunted for sleep. The little bed made up on the floor was empty. Astrid doubted any of them would fall asleep before it was morning. Twitching her covers further across her legs, Astrid grunted and thought about what exactly that morning would bring. Or rather whom. Jazz, Ratchet, the twins, Jenna – oh dear heaves, _Jenna_. If her old friend didn't do her in then the honor of chewing her head off from her shoulders would doubtless fall to her brother. A falling out with her Cybertronian… whatever… might justify radio silence with the rest of his kind for a while, but cutting off friends and family that predated her affiliation with the Autobots was not so easily excused. At least it was unlikely that she'd have to deal with _both_ of her human connections. She'd be dead minutes after the first one arrived. Staring up at the ceiling, Astrid nodded to herself, set on a new course of action. This time she would take a page out of _Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day_. It was time to move to Australia.

Having plotted her next move – ridiculous and impossible as it was – Astrid felt enough of her stress and worry simmer away to entertain the idea of dozing. She closed her eyes and rolled over to her side. The sound of the rain had changed, she noted. There was a deeper rumble to it now, shivering in a bass hum beneath the lighter hissing of the water spitting at the window. It faded in and out on an irregular beat, like the fumbling steps of some great giant.

Two horns began honking madly, burglar alarms wailing and screaming. Astrid leapt up from her bed, but her legs didn't agree with the sudden movement and sent her sprawling. From her vantage point on the floor she could see Kate sitting up in bed and staring at her, signing rapidly. Assuming that Kate's demands were for information, Astrid struggled forward. If the commotion turned out to be nothing then Astrid would happily spend the rest of the night playing charades with Kate as she tried to explain all that she'd been hearing. If not…

By the time she reached the window her legs had stopped hurting enough to cripple her and had resigned themselves to accusatory aching. Now able to stand, she pulled herself up to the window and looked down just in time to see the mini twins zip into the Witwicky's yard from the side alley they'd been parked in.

"Get outta there!"

"He'th comin'! Get movin'!"

A tremendous black shadow was charging across the yard, a great mace swinging after the retreating twins. Barricade. Alive, well, and coming straight for her.

Astrid shifted back on her heels, froze in position like a deer, and then grabbed blindly for Kate. One hand grabbed shirt, the hair. Kate howled as Astrid dragged her towards the door – away from the window – but Astrid wouldn't loosen her grip for the world. They reached the doorway and the room behind them exploded. Rubble and the breeze from the mace sent the girls crashing into the hallway, flat on their bellies and gasping for air. As Astrid fought to get the wind back in her lungs, she listened to the familiar whines and groans of a moving Cybertronian creaking around behind her. When she finally managed to look up, a set of black claws was shredding through the wall, clearing the view for the angry red eyes glaring at her through the hole in their room. She sprang forward, trying to distance herself from the predator, but Barricade was having none of it. The claws jerked down, forcing her to the floor. The tips cut through carpet and flooring as they closed around her, and Astrid realized she was screaming into the rug. Someone else was screaming, too. It might have been Kate or Mrs. Witwicky.

Once he had secured his grip, Barricade dragged her out of the rubble. He raised her to meet his eyes and they burned.

"Finally."

Astrid would have struggled, would have fought, but she couldn't move. She could still scream, though.

**_Review Replies to Those Without Accounts_**

HiddenWithinMyself: Thanks for the review! Yes, I was very lucky to get to go to Ireland. Hope to hear from you again!

To whom it may concern: Hehehe, thankies much. I enjoy cliffies. Here's another for you.

GodisGod!iamnot: Hello, hello! I pretty much felt the same way, so I took the semester off. But I'm back now and can't wait to hear from you again!

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**_Now on the count of three everybody hit the review button! Ok? ONE! TWO! THREEEEEEEEEEEE!_**


	10. Of Scouts and Scrimmages

Disclaimer: Me no own and you no sue, dooda! Dooda!

A/N: Um... holy crap? That was CERTAINLY an unexpected turn out! I feel all warm and fluffy inside. I do hereby promise to update every two or three weeks, more often if possible, but I have a crazy-busy schedule this semester and I stayed up three times this first week til twelve just to do homework. Yikes. But, yeah, this will be a nice, pressure-free place to write, and that will be nice.

**Thank you all for the support! Help me finish this thing! Share the love! Leave a review!**

Chapter Ten: Of Scouts and Scrimmages

Why the crap did she want to know about her tattoo so freakin' badly? It was just a tat. People got them all the time. So what if this one was in slightly bad taste? It was still just a tat. Ink from a needle stabbed into her flesh. Why would Astrid and her used-car-lot-rejects need to know so much about it?

Alright, so the cars weren't used-car-lot-rejects. But still.

It was starting to dawn on Jess that she was a complete idiot. Not only had she stormed out of the house without a jacket, but she hadn't gone back to the house to _get_ the jacket when it started raining. Now she was cold, tired, and very, very wet. Dang it.

Her hair was hanging in her face like slimy ropes of seaweed, and her clothes were all soaked through. By the time the rain became a monsoon she'd found cover at an abandoned bus stop, but it was too late to keep herself dry. The best she could hope for was to avoid getting wetter – though that would hardly make a difference. It already looked like she'd taken a swim across town.

Something sharp was stabbing into her arm, and she looked down to find her fingers biting into the skin just below the t-shirt's short sleeve. The paint was beginning to chip off the nails. It was past time to repaint them, but she'd been distracted by Kate's moodiness and her coworker's depression, and now she was running for her life from a lunatic cop car.

Three hours ago she'd left the house. No sign of pursuit. She had yet to decide whether that was a good or bad thing. Maybe they were giving her some space. Or maybe they'd decided that she wasn't worth the drama. As if they could talk about drama. It was like Astrid's whole friggin' life was one long soap opera.

Maybe someone would come looking for her. Maybe the evil cop-bot would come and make a messy end to her and her messy fingernails.

Bright headlights rippled over her. They flicked off a half second after they touched her face. When Jess looked up she spotted the horribly yellow Camero idling on the corner. It didn't move forward. And it didn't move on. It just sat there, trying to look inconspicuous.

"Dude," Jess said. "I can see you. You're yellow, remember? Sneaking is not one of your strong suits." When had she started talking to cars again?

The car rolled slowly forward, giving Jess plenty of time to run, walk or skip away, but she stayed where she was and watched it through her seaweed hair. When it came to a stop in front of Jess, the door swung open and the awkward boy – Sam – clambered out. He looked like a stock car fan at a croquet match. Totally clueless. Feeling a little guilty for the trouble she was causing him, she volunteered the first word of the conversation: "Hey."

The familiar greeting seemed to melt the boy's anxiety and he offered her a nervous smile. "Hey."

There was no need to get too friendly with the boy, she reminded herself. With a somewhat nasty little grin, Jess relaxed and spread her arms across the back of the bench. She was sitting in the middle. There was no way he could take a seat without making things incredibly awkward again.

"Sam Witwicky, right?" she drawled.

"Uh, yeah – hey, you got my name right." He blinked, trying to absorb the information. "You're Jess."

"Oh, good. You can remember a four letter name. Bravo." She clapped.

A second guy suddenly materialized next to Sam and Jess jumped to her feet.

"Do not be alarmed," said the new guy.

Jess rocked up onto the balls of her feet, preparing to sprint away. "Because you come bearing good news of great joy? I don't think so."

"We have met," Mr. Invisible insisted, moving to block the most convenient escape route. "I am Bumblebee."

Jess blinked and then pointed to the car. "No. _That's_ Bumblebee."

"This is a hologram."

Jess gave up and flopped back on the bench as she threw her hands up in the air. "We've moved on from Knight Rider to Star Trek. This just keeps getting weirder and weirder. Great."

"Listen," Sam said eagerly, taking the initiative again, "you don't have to come back if you don't want to, but it's really, _really_ not safe for you out here. If you want to go home we can work something out back at the house. Get you a plane ticket or something."

"What, you've connect 'connections'?" Jess asked, marking the quotation marks with her fingers.

Sam just grinned at her. "Well my car is an alien robot from outer space, so, yeah, I do actually."

Point for the dork.

"Astrid is worried for you," Bumblebee interjected. "She believes that you are in danger."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. Really."

Of all the crazy people Jess had met in her life, Astrid was the hardest to read. It was like she was trying to understand the sequel without having read the original, the base story. There was a whole lifetime hiding in that blonde head of hers, and Jess desperately wanted to crack it open and take a peek. That, of course, would probably mean that she'd have to consent to a similar examination of her own past, and she wasn't quite sure whether or not she was ready for that just yet. Or just ever, actually. Still, if she left now she'd never know…

"Oh, fine, dang it, I'll come back with you."

Sam looked like he was about ready to melt with relief. Jess hoped the hologram could scrape him into a pail if he did, because she had issues with gooey things.

Still flustered and searching for a way to vent her frustration, she muttered to Sam as she passed him, "Your car is a sucky spy, you know."

"He's a scout, actually."

Another point for the dork.

.O.O.O.

Prowl processed the new data he had received as he watched the offlined mech slouched before him in restraints. By any and all military codes, Mirage ought to have been locked in the brig, but thus far Diego Garcia had not been outfitted with any kind of space capable of holding an enraged mech against his will. Simple cement and sheet metal were next to useless where his kind were concerned.

As he waited, he knew that Prime was en route, already summoned by his curt request for an emergency meeting. The thought did little to ease his whirring processor. He wished his leader could move faster. Events were unfolding that could very easily change the entire situation with the civilian Fenner, and Prowl did not have enough time to calculate a reasonable counter-measure to this news. Unfortunately, this was a time when only his leader's impulsive and frequently imprudent could remedy the crisis. It might even be too late for that.

"Prowl."

The strategist looked up at his commanding officer and offered a brief nod of recognition. Then he turned his focus fully on the incapacitated mech before him.

"Mirage has betrayed the Autobots."

Prime actually took a step back as if struck. Prowl was sorry that he had had to deliver the blow himself.

"How so?"

"Before he sent himself into voluntary stasis, he raved a good deal about killing Astrid Fenner."

Straight, taut, like the bows the humans used to utilize in combat, his commander seemed ready to snap. Or shatter.

"That is not possible. Mirage would never have willingly endangered Astrid Fenner, and he would never have _killed_ her. Besides," Prime relaxed visibly as a new thought dawned on him, "it isn't possible for him to have harmed her when they are on opposite sides of the planet."

"From what I have gathered from his comm. records," Prowl said, "he did not kill her, but did in fact betray her… in an effort to save her."

"Please clarify, Prowl."

"Barricade contacted him with a video file that he must have recorded during his encounter with Astrid and her two comrades. It was carefully edited to appear as though capture was more than eminent. Then he sent a message detailing his demands. He offered Mirage an ultimatum: he could supply information about a nameless human being guarded by Skids and Mudflap, or he could receive a recording of his charge being tortured to death."

"Primus. So he's been leading Barricade straight to Astrid."

"Affirmative. He only discovered Barricade's treachery when he overheard Wheeljack and me discussing the Fenner matter. What are your orders, sir?"

Prime gave a rather good imitation of a human 'snort'. "Is this matter too illogical for you, Prowl?"

"Negative. I simply have not had time to calculate the best course of action, but there is no time for hesitation. Orders must be given, and you are Prime."

"Yes."

There was a moment of hesitation, but only a moment.

"Here are my orders. Bumblebee is to guard the Witwicky residence at all times, and none of our allies under his watch are to leave the residence until reinforcements arrive. When the two teams en route arrive, they are to proceed to the nearest air force base and secure the fastest possible transport back to Diego Garcia. Astrid Fenner and her two comrades are to be kept under guard at all times."

.O.O.O.

Never in her whole life had Jess been so hastily ejected from a car. And, yes, she really did mean ejected. One minute she was sitting comfortably in the leather passenger bucket-seat, and the next she was sprawled on the lawn. Sam squeaked something about his dad and the grass, but Jess was distracted by her aching bum.

She sprang to her feet and wound up for the mother of all reprimands. But then she was distracted by the gaping hole in the side of the Witwicky house. Bee had unfolded to his… slightly more human-ish form and had a humming weapon primed on his arm as he scrutinized the scene. Up to that point, Jess had never seen him in his robo-form, and she was rather impressed. Needless to say, he distracted her from the hole. She was promptly distracted from the robo-defender by the charging roommate barreling into her at fifty mph.

"What the – Kate? What's up? Why is there a hole in the house? And why does your hair smell like toasted blankets?"

"SAM!" Mrs. Witwicky descended on them all like an enraged Canada goose. "Look at the HOUSE, SAM! It's WRECKED!"

"Mom, Mom! Now just call down!" Poor Sam's eyes were bulging, and the hands he was holding out to reassure his mother looked more like the desperate gesture of a man warding off a wild tiger than a placating movement. "It's like last time, alright? Just like the last time we had a little accident. You remember, right? What was it Dad said? Remodel! Right! It's the official start of – "

"We just FINISHED remodeling the house, Sam!"

"Uh – right, well, see this as… Actually, Mom, if you don't mind – where's Astrid?"

Judy Witwicky's bottom lip thrust out. And trembled.

"Mom?"

"It…" Mrs. Witwicky took a massive sob of a breath and howled, "it took my little girl!"

.O.O.O.

Optimus and Prowl were both struck by Bee's desperate alert in the same instant. Anything Optimus might have ordered was already too late. While they had been occupied with the problem of Mirage, Barricade had seized his opportunity. Astrid Fenner was officially MIA. Prime shuddered in the face of his young scout's panic.

"Oh, Primus."

And then there was a groan as the voluntary functions of the unconscious mech beside them struggled back online. Of course, Prime thought. The only thing that could wake one of his soldiers out of stasis lock was an alert concerning their particular duties. Or their particular ward.

This would not be a pleasant conversation.

.O.O.O.

Hours passed. By the time the two backup teams arrived at the Witwicky home they had already received Bumblebee's alert, and they'd had time to come to terms with the situation.

As if.

Jenna sat in the yard, back propped against Ratchet's tire. The towering medic was on watch, limited to his car form for fear of alarming the neighbors (who had written the Witwickys off as a family of nut jobs many years ago when the men in black whisked them away in the night). Now that there was no sign of – or reason for – another attack from Barricade Prime had ordered that his soldiers keep a low profile. He had also ordered for them to fall back to base… all of them. In fifteen minutes or less, they would be on the road, and Jenna hoped desperately that this Jess girl would keep resisting those orders. Prime's orders would be followed to the letter, but she just wanted to watch as Jeremy Fenner and his team trussed Astrid's new friend up like a turkey and popped her in the trunk. It was all that slagging moron's fault, anyway. If it weren't for her and her roommate Astrid might have been able to move faster, outsmart Barricade… or grow wings or something. Bumblebee would never have left his post if that emo-bimbo hadn't run off at any rate.

Ticked as she was, Jenna couldn't quite bring herself to hate the roommate, Kate. Kate just sat on the sidelines, silent, occasionally scribbling in her sketchpad. She also had rubble in her hair and her clothes were dirty. Jenna figured that was like a mark of trauma. Aside from looking a little damp, the other barnacle was in mint condition. And all Jess did was mouth off. She was very annoying. And Jenna didn't like her. So she was sitting with Ratchet – away from the scene of chaos being played by Jess, Jeremy, Sam and Mrs. Witwicky.

It had been months since she'd seen Jeremy and Jazz. This reunion sucked. Everyone was in a bad mood. Even Sideswipe had gone into the cold, tense, masculine thing. At least she assumed it was a masculine thing. Ratchet wouldn't discuss robot genders with her. After a little bit of thought on the matter, Jenna decided that she didn't want to open that can of worms, either.

"I am going to say this _one_ more time," Jeremy was saying, nostrils flared, hand shaking with adrenaline, teeth gritted in frustration. "You don't get to say no. Optimus Prime gave an order, and he is one of my commanding officers. Get. In. The. Car."

"Which car did you have in mind?" Jess asked, all doe eyes and cocked hip.

Jenna could practically hear Jeremy's teeth grinding from across the lawn. "Pick one."

"Pick one?" Jess parroted. "How can I pick a _car_ when there are nothing but _freaking alien robots_ parked around this place?"

Jenna raised her hand. "Actually, that one…" she pointed at the troop-carrying van that was part of Jeremy's team, "that one…" she pointed to the team's equipment truck, "and that one…" she pointed at the black SUV that had accompanied her team, "are just cars. Oh, and maybe the Witwicky's family car. You'd probably have to ask about that one, though."

"Thanks," Jess sneered.

Jenna smiled sweetly. "Any time."

Apparently Jeremy had given up waiting for the newbie to make up her mind – or at least make up her mind in his favor – and while she was distracted with Jenna, he snapped a pair of handcuffs over her wrists.

"What the heck! Oh, man, you are busted! This is SO illegal!"

"Maybe not. I don't know. If you want to try running away you're welcome to. I'm pretty sure no one's going to help a person running away from military personnel in handcuffs."

"I really think I hate you."

"I _know_ I hate you."

As she was being shoved into the sliding door of the troop van, Jess demanded, "Seriously, what is your problem?"

Jeremy shoved her hard enough that she went sprawling on the vehicle's floor. She gawped up at him in shock and he towered over her like the soldier he was. The very, very angry soldier he was. "My problem is that you got my sister kidnapped, you idiot." Then he slammed the door.

All about her people were scurrying to their rides, and Jenna leisurely rolled to her feet, taking the time to brush the grass and dirt from the seat of her pants. Then she climbed into Ratchet's passenger seat and clipped the belt into place. "Ratchet, let's get rolling."

"Yes. Let's."

Jenna had to bite the inside of her cheek hard as she looked at the hole in the Witwicky's house. Then they were on their way back home and she was thinking about how much she hated Jess the Jerk.

.O.O.O.

The sun was setting as Prime paced the runway with Prowl and Ironhide at his heels. The last time Astrid had been abducted there had been a logical, strategic reason. There did not appear to be one this time. It was simply a matter of hate and Barricade's obsession with destruction.

She had stayed away for so long – probably to protect herself in one way or another – only to face destruction minutes after making contact. It was boggling all of their processors, and this girl with the Decepticon badge marked on her skin only added to the confusion. By now the teams would be en route back to Diego Garcia, and they would be bringing Astrid's two new contacts with them. What he ought to do upon their arrival was a mystery to Prime, one which he had only a few hours to solve.

His processor _ached_. This whole mess would still be a small disaster, but it would have been so much more manageable if Astrid had been able to mediate between…

"Optimus!"

Prime jerked back to attention at Ironhide's warning shout. He heard the shriek of a jet engine an instant later. When he looked up he saw a raptor jet emblazoned with Cybertronian characters screaming down through the defensive fire that the base's automated systems unleashed. It took one slight hit to the right wing and the rest of its decent was executed in a twisted spiral.

Then it transformed and landed on its feet very close to Prime himself. He dipped back, battle mask sliding into place, preparing for a fight, but the only damage the intruder caused was to the chunks of cement his taloned feet were ripping from the runway.

"Starscream."

Ironhide's cannons were practically singing as they warmed for battle.

"WaitwaitwaitWAIT!" the Decepticon cried. He threw himself onto the tarmac, for all intents and purposes prostrating himself at Prime's feet. "I come seeking sanctuary."

"From what?" Prime asked from behind his mask.

Prowl made a startled noise behind him, and then quietly warned, "Prime…"

Clutched in Starscream's hands was a very unconscious but very whole Astrid Fenner.

A/N: And now ya'll are going to kill me. By the way, I'm working on getting a new beta reader, so for the next chapter or so bear with the things I miss in my frazzledness. Thankies much.

Replies to those without accounts/ those who didn't bother to log in. ,

Black Ops Girl: Yeah, it HAS been a while. Not the sandbox, but Northern Ireland. There was only one car bomb while I was there, and that was sort of the epically hilarious 'oops, we missed' moment, so you don't need to waste your talents killing anyone just yet. Hope to hear from you again!

HP: Thanks. ^_^

Erin: Thanks! I'm trying to learn the whole 'let the characters do their own thing' technique, so the fact that this is even a little unpredictable is a tremendous compliment! Thanks again! Oh, and I like your name, by the way. It sounds very Irish.

The Dark Side: **_Bows_** Yes, my masters. **_Waves back to fangirl_** Hiya!

NightlyRains: Oh, I get the whole lazy thing, trust me. Thanks for the review, though! I totally agree that sometimes my writing (especially the start of Desert Mirage) can get a bit 'shaky', but I'm glad you kept reading! I've always been interested in the deaf community. A long time ago I took a sign language course, although I've forgotten most of it by now, and my mom was really involved with things like silent dinners for a while, so going back and reinvestigating that stuff is fun. Life definitely calls shotgun. I'm in two senior-level writing courses (because my wee bitty college only offers them every other year. ,) as well as departmental honors, so I'm a very busy nutjob. But I will always try to keep this baby on schedule. Mirage is actually just a character that I came across through fanfic after getting into the new movies, so I've messed around with him a lot without knowing much about his background. From my research, though, he doesn't seem to have all that much of a background, anyway. I'd say Jazz or Optimus is my favorite, but I also like Ratchet, and Bumblebee, and the big twins... Yeah, this could go on for a while...

GodisGodiamnot: Hullo again! I missed you, oh loyal buddy! Yeah, this one WILL get finished, come homework and high water (it actually flooded in my dorm the other day, but that's another story...) I'm glad that you still read this, even if you don't read others. Hope to hear from you again soon!

just me: Thanks! Hope you keep reading!


	11. Of Updates and Recallings

Disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue.

A/N: Whew! I've been one busy little woman these past few weeks. Homework, drama, job, more homework... yeah. Anywho. The weather will not leave us alone here. We haven't seen the ground since the first half of the first week of school, and, no, that is not an exaggeration. We've got lots and lots of snow. Would you like some? And everyone's getting sick. They're dropping left, right and center, and I'm just sort of sitting here praying that I'm not next to get hit with one of the five evil diseases roaming campus. Here's hoping. If I get sick I will be taking a short break from the fic, just so you know. Sorry this one's a bit short! Next week is my turn for the first group review of my (barely started) writing seminar piece. Wish me luck!

**P.S.** I laughed my butt off at the reviews ya'll left. Just so you know. GOTCHA!

Chapter 11: Of Updates and Recallings

Starscream obviously had no experience handling humans. Outside of torture and homicide, of course. It showed in his hold on Astrid. His claws squeezed her arms to her sides, holding her like an awkward bully would hold his kid sister's rag doll.

Optimus's hands itched to get the delicate human away from the Decepticon scientist, but at the same time he was very worried that even the barest hint of aggression on his part could lead to damage to the Fenner sibling. Primus, all the Decepticon had to do was squeeze, even without meaning to, and…

Prime repeated his earlier question. "From what do you seek sanctuary?"

Starscream hissed and sidled to the right, the majority of his attention devoted to Ironhide's cannons, even when he was addressing the Autobot leader. "Not from _what_, your worthiness, but from _whom_."

Behind his mask, Prime frowned. He had never liked or respected Megatron's second, even before the war. The twisted seeker enjoyed mind games and slippery words of false praise entirely too well to be trustworthy in any sense of the word. "From whom then?"

"Megatron."

"And why do you, Megatron's second in command, need protection from your own leader?" Prowl asked.

"Because!" Starscream gestured towards the area around his spark, which had been half-peeled of his armor and showed a mess of sparking wires. "My leader has betrayed _me!_"

For a moment none of the mechs uttered a single sound.

Then Ironhide said, "Probably because you tried to off him first."

"No!"

"So your leader just attacked you at random?" Prowl asked.

"Wouldn't surprise me," Ironhide grunted.

"No!"

"And why should we risk another confrontation with Megatron by offering you shelter?" asked Prime.

Starscream looked hopelessly confused. He looked at the limp fleshling in his hands, lifted it like a five-year-old showing off a perfect mud pie and then stared back up at Prime. "Because – I am returning your fleshling?"

"Looks more like you're holding her hostage to me," said Ironhide.

"Whaaat? No! Nonono! I rescued the fleshling from Barricade! The fragger left his signal open, like he was trying to broadcast his situation to the universe, and I _saved_ the fleshy! Now I've brought it to you! Look!" He thrust his hand forward and sent Astrid's head rolling from side to side.

Prime tensed. They needed to get her away from Starscream before he did something desperate.

"Just hand her to me – _gently_ – and we will be happy to discuss…"

"We will discuss my safety first!" Starscream shrieked, stomping several steps backwards and clutching his prize bargaining chip closely.

The rest of the base had finally mobilized in response to a Decepticon infiltration. All of the mechs could hear the sirens and clank of machinery as the full force of Diego Garcia mobilized for the battle of the century. If Starscream were a human Prime was willing to bet that he'd be sweating buckets. As it was his spark was pulsating wildly enough for Prime to pick it up on his sensors.

"There's more," Starscream said, a little more pleadingly this time. "There is a weapon."

"A weapon?" Prime demanded.

"Yes," Starscream thrust his head out like an angry vulture. "A weapon that could destroy this tiny little planet in the pulse of a spark. The pulse of my spark, actually."

"Clarify," Prime demanded.

"Before the recovery of Megatron, I had a laboratory of my own on this planet. In it is a weapon that will destroy this world should my spark cease to function." He frowned. "It was meant to be insurance. I didn't know at the time that my leader would seek the planet's annihilation."

"And he discovered this how?" Prowl asked.

"I told him." Three blank faces answered his statement. "It was not one of my brighter moments."

"Do Decepticons have bright moments?" Ironhide asked.

The reinforcements were little more than one hundred yards away. Some were already prepping their weapons.

"Give Astrid Fenner to me," Prime commanded. "You have your sanctuary."

.O.O.O.

Jenna was not a happy woman. Jeremy Fenner, in all his _vast_ wisdom, had placed her across from her newfound nemisis: Jess, the wannabe emo. It took half of eternity to go from the western United States to the Indian Ocean. This could mean war. The tremendous cargo plane they'd commandeered offered nothing better than long benches on either side of the narrowest portion of the cargo hold, and sported horrendously awful harnesses that threatened strangulation and chaffing marks by the end of the flight.

Her first impulse and suggestion had been to ride in Ratchet's front seat like she usually did (Hey! There was even a seatbelt!), but the cranky old medic had shot that down almost faster than it could leave her mouth. She'd sweetly told him that his cab was the safest place in the _whole wide world_, and he'd asked if she'd meant that as an insult.

Cranky old doctor bots…

Then Jenna's cell rang. She glanced at the number. It was Ratchet calling her from the other end of the plane. She flipped it open and slapped it to her ear. That just made half her face hurt.

"What?"

"_There is an update on Astrid."_

"I'm listening."

If it weren't for the chaffing strangulation harness of doom, Jenna would have fallen clean off the bench. As it was, she nearly succeeded in strangling herself.

.O.O.O.

The only damage Astrid Fenner had sustained was a fresh cut over the long white scar on her cheek and a set of similar superficial injuries including a split lip. Thank Primus for small favors.

Once he had been assured by the base's medics that Astrid Fenner was truly as whole and unharmed as she appeared, Optimus Prime had refused to surrender her again to human hands. It was not, perhaps, the most practical arrangement, but he owed it to Mirage to make sure that Astrid woke up in the company of friends. The girl knew Lennox and Epps, but human militaries seemed to require a great deal more in the way of command, direction and paperwork than an army of mechs. Optimus couldn't leave the two men on bedside-duty when they were both so busy keeping Diego Garcia up and running. So he kept the girl with him, resting in his hands. It would be a comfort to her brother when he returned that she had been kept under the closest of guards since she'd come into Autobot hands… literally.

The girl had stubbornly refused to regain consciousness, although she seemed to have at least surfaced to the level of a deep sleep rather than complete unconsciousness. The medics had assured him that it was perfectly natural for her to take several hours to wake up. Between the shock and the speeds Starscream had been flying, it was no wonder she had lost consciousness.

Starscream was an idiot. The Decepticon had no idea how to handle humans, and if he had increased his speed even a little he might have caused Astrid permanent damage. Luckily the fool took the fact that she passed out as a bad sign. Humans were simply not equipped to deal with the G-forces mechs could endure.

Optimus looked at the organic resting in his palm and let the air slowly cycle out of his vents, trying to release the remainders of the stress that had been building for the last few days. There would be enough to put on a strain on his systems when his away teams returned and they began sorting out the mystery of Astrid's new acquaintance, but for now he was happy to simply relax, sitting there, knowing that this one piece of the puzzle was safe and well and in his reach. His human comrades had a tendency to be none of the above, more often than not.

But he knew that there was one mech that would not be resting. A mech whose systems were already strained to the breaking point, whose own hands were burning to hold what he was holding.

Once again, he looked at the organic he was holding. Her breathing was deep and even, entirely undisturbed by all the medics' fuss and Optimus' own movements. It was highly unlikely that she would wake for some hours yet.

Optimus made a decision and rose from his chair.

.O.O.O.

_The oldest enemy was the most terrifying. Astrid knew she was dead the moment Barricade dragged her out of the house. _

_Once he had acquired his target, Barricade rapidly transformed into his alternate mode, half squashing Astrid in the process. Pieces snapped together or sheered apart millimeters away from her face, sharp edges and hard panels banged and cut over the rest of her. And then she was in the back of the police car. Seatbelts were snared around her, pinning her in place and cutting off her circulation. One looped over her face, forcing her mouth shut, digging the seatbelt clip into the back of her head. There was nothing to hear aside from the satisfied purr of Barricade's engine and the shriek of the siren. In a straight-out chase he was much faster than either of the mini twins. Bumblebee could have given him a proper run for his money, but he wasn't there, he was off… looking for Jess… _

_Slag it. She was going to die. _

_They drove that way for a long time. It felt like ages to Astrid, but it couldn't have been more than an hour – far enough away that Bumblebee would not be able to easily track them down upon his return. He would not be able to interrupt Barricade's games. _

_When they stopped, Astrid was flung out of the cabin, and she sat on the grass – very dizzy – watching terror unfold itself. Sharp angles, red eyes. Big feet ready to crush her. Long claws ready to slice her. Her leg and shoulder throbbed, her scars itched. It was the same old nightmare all over again, but bigger, angrier – alone and unprotected, minutes to live or hours of suffering. Everything was coming unhinged, the world of understanding rapidly fraying as Barricade yanked on the loose threads._

_The devil wanted to play. "Run."_

_Astrid floundered to her feet, full of pins and needles as circulation was finally restored to arms and legs. She glanced at the empty fields around them, glanced at the monster._

_The tips of his claws screeched against each other, as if they were trying to sing her a bloody eulogy. "Run, fleshy."_

_She really shouldn't have, but she did._

_She made it a few yards before he bowled her over sideways. She tumbled and rolled, then popped up and ran again. She made it a few more yards, was intercepted by a wall of metal, went flying back to the place she had started from. The air abandoned her lungs and she pushed her palms into the dirt as pebbles rubbed over her lips and cheek. Breathing wasn't supposed to be this hard. _

"_So slow, fleshy."_

_He plucked her up from the earth, and Astrid watched as the ground grew distant beneath her. And then she was facing red eyes. All red. A hot sharp finger poked into her cheek, dragging down to reopen the ugly scar that marred her face. A memory of a caress better left forgotten._

_He dropped her, returning her to the dirt, and Astrid screamed as she experienced the horrible sensation of free fall. Then she was back in the dirt. A tremendous heavy foot was placed over her, and it pressed down slowly, grinding her back into the dirt. With the rest of the worms. She couldn't breathe._

"_N-no!"_

"_Not yet," Barricade reassured her. "I'm not killing you yet. There are so many pains I haven't taught you yet. But this is how it will end. Your blood on my hands." He flicked the claw he had used to slash her face, and a light spatter impaired her vision. "My foot crushing you into your precious earth. Into the dirt. What is that saying you fleshlings have? Dust to dust? But it will not be quick, and you will scream for me again. You will scream until your voice bleeds. And then I will end it for you."_

_The sky was moving. Behind Barricade's face and his awful red eyes a star was falling. It fell farther and farther, and Astrid stared, mystified. It struck Barricade, and he flew away from her. And she lie there, in the dust, staring up at the stars. _

_It was a fighter jet, one with arms and legs and a very angry scowl. Astrid tried to get up and get away, but the jet snatched her up, reforming and thrusting her into the cockpit even as he took off again. Restraints snapped over her, keeping her immobile and uncomfortable. The ground was disappearing beneath her. So was Barricade. They were going so fast. Her head was dragging itself backwards, too heavy for her neck, and black lines pulled on the edges of her vision, growing wider and wider until there was nothing left but the dark._

.O.O.O.

She jerked herself awake, slapping up against something hard. Something hard that was beneath her and beside her. _All around_ her. The jet was a Decepticon!

She opened her eyes. And there was blue. Bright blue and a silver glow.

A/N: **I just discovered the caramelldansen! OH YEAH! **And now you review! Yay!

HiddenWithinMyself: Good luck with that! I hope your school didn't get blasted with snow like mine did. Or at least they gave you days off if you did. Mine never does. Seriously. It sucks. I'm gonna stop whining now... Thanks for the review!

idntlikeurpants: Thanks for the review! Hehe, I love the shock factor there. Jess is a bit of a griper, but I think by the end of the fic she will have grown on you... like a fungus. , , Ew.

GodisGodiamnot: It came, it came! Here is a shiny new chapter just for you! YAY! Wow, I'm slap-happy. Thanks for the review! You rock!

Just me: Thanks for the review! I'll probably finish this baby out. I like it. And I like shiny things. And robots and reviews are shiny. So far this fic has lots of both. So. Yeah. I'll keep writing. No worries!

21 jellybeans: Thanks for the review! So, I have a question - if I remember correctly you were the one who pmed me (which was very nice, thank you) and you said that there were two of you reading this. Do you review twice because there are two of you? Or are you just really forgetful like me? Just curious. Yeah. Thanks again!

Joyful 1: Thank you for the review! My ego is now so large I can't fit into small elevators, which is very nice. I don't have so share them with people coming back from the gym. Hope to hear from you again soon!

MissyMoo: First off, love the penname. Second - THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS! I love questions. Especially when they get answered in the chapter I'm working on while people review. Hope to hear from you again!


	12. Of Hellos

Disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue.

A/N: Alright, so I definitely owe you all an explanation. To start with, I DID get sick. After a weekend of misery, I went to the campus nurse, who told me that I WOULD go on meds or I WOULD have walking pneumonia within two days. I had a lovely sounding death rattle for a little while, there. Secondly, and this is a bit of a whopper, I have been diagnosed with 'severe to extreme' depression. Pretty sure in retrospect that I've had it for a while, but a friend finally dragged me to the councilor, who dragged me to the nurse, who gave me the news. So that was a bombshell in the middle of a very busy semester, and fic just wasn't happening. That said, my goal is to finish this fic by the end of the summer. I also started another fic (because it was sitting in the back of my computer and I could connect in some way with you all despite the fact that I wasn't writing anything), but I might end up deleting it. We'll see. ON WITH THE SHOW!

**This is a very brief preview of coming attractions, I swear. There should be a REAL update this week or next. Dork's honor. **

Chapter Twelve: Of Hellos

Silver and blue. They pressed around her, and the steady pulse of a spark beat through the metal at her palms.

She was not in the jet anymore; a red face was frowning at her, announcing that the chest she was cuddling against belonged to an Autobot. And she was fairly certain she knew which one it was.

Mirage

Doubtless his sensors and scanners had already registered the signals of her waking body. He had made no move, though, no acknowledgement, and Astrid felt her mind lock in uncertainty. This was the moment she'd been planning since Mirage had driven off, the conversation she'd been delaying since she moved to a new apartment. How was she supposed to explain? How was she supposed to ask? What words could she use?

The English language wasn't worth a good crap. None of the words were right. She wanted to ask 'Did it hurt when I left? I meant for it to, you know; but I didn't, either.' None of the words would work.

She opened her mouth, hoping for the best, and a blast of pain screamed up her spine. What eventually came out was, "Aaaaahhhhooooooowwwwwww."

Mirage's head whipped around, and his tremendous blue optics appeared to grow even larger. For a second he seemed to forget that Astrid was meant to make noise, and he was so startled he nearly dropped her. While Astrid didn't have to kiss the floor, she slid several feet before Mirage managed to fumble her into a steadier position.

Then they were facing each other.

And neither one had a clue what do to next.

"Well… hello," said Astrid.

"Hello."

**Review Replies for those without accounts:**

HiddenWithinMyself: It is Mirage indeed! Huzzah for his return! I am happy that it is summer. No more snow. ^_^ Thanks for the review!

Joyful 1: Thank you very much! Ah, so many questions... that I shall not answer. Because I want you to keep reading and complimenting me. ;D

GodisGodiamnot: Hullo again and thankies! I hope to hear from you again!

MissyMoo: Thanks for your review! Well, I haven't seen everything there is to see about Starscream and Megatron, but from what I gather Starscream has back-stabbed Megatron several times, and Megatron is... well... a nutter... and he seemed fine with his people gutting one of his soldiers in order to rebuild him, so maybe he'd go for the 'One-untrustworthy-second-in-command-for-the-entire-Autobot-force' sale. Maybe not. Luckily I'm not quite that insane yet. I hope to hear from you again!

Echo: Aw, that's sweet, thank you! Here is an update for you! More to follow!

AmyPond: , Not sure about this, but you sound a LOOOOTTT like a certain red-headed friend of mine who said almost that exact line before... or maybe it's a coincidence... Regardless, thanks a million for the review!

**P.S. My sissy just came in and made me kill a bug in her room. ^_^ It was an ant. A big one. Sleep well!  
**


	13. Of Cat Fights and Old Faces

Disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue.

A/N: I DID IT! Barely. Thirty minutes away from my self-imposed deadline, but I did it. From here on out I plan on posting weekly updates, though give me some slack next week because it's my birthday AND my brother is coming home, so there's a lot going on the real-life side of things. Enjoy!

**Much thanks due:** A bunch of you sent me not only support in your reviews but also in private messages. These were extremely encouraging, thank you all.

Chapter 13: Of Cat Fights and Old Faces

Jet lag. The terror of tourists. The horror of continent-hoppers. And the scapegoat of Jenna's bad mood.

She had not asked to be seated across from the wanna-be emo for the better part of a day, and she had certainly not asked for Ratchet to inform her via text that she would be required for a full shift in the med bay… immediately. When she snapped at several well-meaning marines who had to help disentangle her from her 'safety' harness she blamed it on the horrible fact that after hopping, leaping and jumping through so many time zones her nervous system was fried. But there was nothing safe about that web of death, anyway. It was just plain evil.

And of course Jess had no problem with the thing. It was just further proof that she was in league with all the evil forces of the universe.

As Jenna disembarked she held up the whole line of passengers just to get her vengeance on Ratchet by blowing several loud, annoying and rather wet raspberries at his gleaming paint job. The medic did not deign to respond.

"You don't travel well, do you?" Jess's voice ground like razor shards on Jenna's nerves.

By then they were clear of the main line of passengers stumbling free of the giant iron bird, and Jenna was free to _finally_ stop and give the evil, wanna-be-emo, over-inked grunge-girl a piece of her mind. "No. I don't. But, apparently, it's the _only_ thing that _you_ do well, so I'll give you that one."

"Did I kill your cat in a past life? Because you definitely strike me as the crazy cat lady type," Jess said.

"No, you just about killed my friend in this one, and I don't like cats. Much."

"Oooo, dang, Mudflap, I think we just got front row seats a cat fight, bro." The mini twins had pulled up behind them and now stood in their bipedal forms, arms crossed, ready for the show.

"Do the two of you have nothing better to be doing? Seriously?" Jenna asked.

"She has a heck of point," Jess agreed. "Shouldn't you be off doing, I don't know, alien things?"

"Yes they should." If it was possible for metal entities to go pale, the twins would have. Ironhide was towering behind them, and as he spoke he clapped a firm hand on each twin's shoulder. "You are going to see Prime now, before I change my mind and stuff you in the brig." He dragged them off before either one could argue, though they did try to argue very valiantly, and Jenna was left to her own battle.

Unfortunately, while the two combatants had been distracted, Kate had come up to join them, and, much as she disliked Jess, Jenna felt a lot more awkward picking a fight in front of the quiet girl. So she frumped and crossed her arms over her chest. It took a great deal of effort to not stick out her bottom lip as well.

Lennox approached them then and called for them to follow. As they walked, both Jess and Kate appeared incredibly distracted by the massive gleaming robots going about their duties in the intensely bright light of Diego Garcia. The heat rippled up in waves, blurring the feet of some of the most distant bots. Jenna kept her head down and fought to just get to the med bay as quickly as possible without being noticed. If she was lucky, she'd be able to find Astrid there. If she wasn't lucky, she'd just have to relieve her frustrations on Ol' Doc Hatchet.

Once they reached the med bay Jenna broke off as planned, and Lennox muttered something about debriefing and a report, though Jenna hardly saw the point seeing as how they'd all arrived too late to be in on any of the action.

The med bay doors were massive, and even though only one was propped open at the time, Jenna still felt ridiculously short and her steps ridiculously small as she entered. The bay itself was a suite of rooms, all designed to accommodate both mech and human sized patients. Walkways and platforms climbed and crawled out over the walls and around the larger berths, and pathways large enough to be halls were left clear for the Autobots. The ramps and catwalks for humans were, Jenna knew, more to keep necks from cramping than to avoid injuries. During all the time she'd spent with the Autobots there had not been a single human injury due to a mech's careless footing. It was easy to think of their allies as being similar to cars, but aside from appearances they were literally a whole different species. More high-tech than heavy-metal, the Cybertronians were made up of so many minute sensor systems that it was practically impossible for them to not notice a human underfoot – so to speak. If they didn't _want_ to step on you, they wouldn't.

A variety of recovery rooms were scattered off of the main bay as well as two separate operating rooms which were equipped to deal with different sized patients composed of different substances – metal or organic gooey stuff. Jenna tended to help with the metal ones. A host of human doctors were available to help with the humans, and it wasn't like the humans needed a civilian liaison to groom.

It was with the hope of finding Astrid that Jenna began nosing through the recovery rooms. She found her target's brother instead.

"I thought you were supposed to be on duty," she said, slipping into the room. If he was loitering here it probably meant that Astrid would also be coming here… sooner or later… and Jeremy wasn't such a horrible conversationalist. Boys made for good distractions.

"Lennox and Optimus both told me to report to the med bay to see Astrid before I resumed my duties. Something about compromising emotions," Jeremy replied, offering a careless shrug. "Really it's just boring sitting around in here."

"Yeah, well, could be worse." Jenna popped herself up to sit on a low cabinet. "At least now you have me here to talk to."

"You're right," he said, "it could have been worse. Now it is."

Jenna popped back down from her seat. "Geez, I can take a hint you know. I'll go… sort screws and… annoy Ratchet… or something."

"Sorry for snapping, Jenna." He glanced over at her, smile wry and dry. "We're all a little stressed these days."

"We? Do you have a mouse in your pocket?" Seeking to lighten the atmosphere, Jenna tossed her hair haughtily and declared, "I have been under no stress whatsoever. I sit across from Disney villainess wannabes for trans-oceanic flights every day."

Jeremy snorted.

.O.O.O.

"Mirage?"

"Yes, Astrid."

"Why are we in the brig?"

As with all Cybertronians, unless they were in stealth mode, Astrid could always hear them move before she actually saw the action. The low buzzing purr that crawled up through her teeth came moments before Mirage plucked her from where she was cuddled against his chest. The cement floor was a lot colder than his spark-heated armor had been.

"Mirage?"

He turned away from her. "I have betrayed the Autobots. I gave Barricade the information he needed to hunt you down after your meeting in the field."

"What? Are you trying to make a joke? It's not funny."

"I would never joke about such a thing." Mirage went quiet, but Astrid refused to break the silence. She was hurt and she was confused. And she wanted the whole truth and nothing but the truth drat it. The Autobots would not have allowed her to wake up in the arms of her betrayer. If she opened her mouth she knew a thick bile of words would spill out. She was too much of a mess to speak, so she waited for him to.

And, after a great deal of waiting, he did. In a monotone voice he recited his sins to her. He told her about everything that had happened from the moment Barricade contacted him until she had been deposited in his hands.

Then he waited for her ruling. It took her some time to organize her thoughts.

"I love the fact that you are willing to betray the Autobot cause to rescue me but can't be bothered to look up my forwarding address," she finally said. "You're a freaking idiot."

There was much more that she wanted to say and more that she was sure he wanted to say, but at that moment a certain cranky doctor 'bot came to the cell door and demanded the human. "Prime clearly trusts you not to harm her, but I don't trust the other medics on this base as far as they can throw me and I want to examine Miss Fenner before the next world crisis descends on us."

He carried her back through the base, and Astrid tried to grind herself down into the gaps between the panels of the medic's palms. For once she didn't insist on walking. The less she was seen the better. Every time they passed someone in the hall – mech or human – she tried to grab Ratchet's fingers and bend them down over her head. There a thousand reunions that she wasn't ready to have just yet, and a rather large mistake she wasn't quite ready to face up to. What was she supposed to say? Hello, yeah, the past year or so of my life was an utter waste and I'm sorry I screwed up yours in the process? That would go over brilliantly. She'd already called Mirage an idiot. How many more close friends could she insult in the next six hours?

When they first arrived in the med bay, Astrid felt an overwhelming sense of relief. Unless a very great deal had changed since she had frequented the Autobots' previous base, the med bay would be a very unpopular hang out spot. Chances were, it there would be few people there who didn't absolutely have to be. With any luck at all it would be peaceful, quiet, still, devoid of anyone demanding an explanation of her behavior (which she hardly understood herself apart from her dealings with Mirage)…

Ratchet opened the door to a recovery room and Astrid prepared for a relaxing time alone with her thoughts.

Or, she did, until she spotted the two figures debating in the corner.

"Ratchet," she said. "I will kill you."

He snorted as he set her down. "I'm afraid you will have to join the line, my dear… and I believe there is also a considerable line waiting for _you_. So hold off any and all threats until you're sure you can deliver on them."Then he straightened and marched out, already shouting orders across the 'bay to a small group of human doctors.

Jeremy and Jenna were waiting when Astrid finally managed the nerve to meet their eyes – and the look on Jenna's face was absolutely feral. Astrid's old friend walked up, slapped her and then began to shake. Her eyes became incredibly shiny, with narrow pools of tears held in by her lower lashes. Her lower lip was trembling. Then – with a war-whoop of a sob – she launched herself at Astrid and caught her in a death grip.

"!"

Gasping and wheezing, Astrid peered over Jenna's shoulder and asked her brother, "What did she say?"

"The same thing I'm about to tell you, but at a slower rate," he said. With a grunt he shoved Jenna – still blubbering – off of his sister and took her job squeezing the life out of the girl.

.O.O.O.

Jess had never felt so technologically illiterate in her entire life. The demon cop, the twin terrors and the Camero had been enough for blow her mind wide open, but now she was surrounded by these things, and they were much larger and, she assumed, more powerful than any of the ones she had met before. She was on a _military_ base that was an _island_, and the whole thing had clearly been designed to cater to more than the standard human soldier's needs.

Most mind-blowing of all was that they all seemed to just accept this as normal. Lennox, the grunt leading them, didn't so much as flinch when a several-ton titan marched past them within touching distance. Apparently dying like a bug under their feet didn't bother him in the least.

Even Kate seemed relatively unfazed. For the first hallway or two she'd been obviously mindful of those tremendous feet, but now she was too busy looking up into those big shiny eyes of theirs to pay attention to their most threatening – and closest – attributes.

Jess thought they were all idiots.

The giant machines looked down at the little troop with interest every time they passed. Civilians, it would seem, were not common sights on this desolate little base. Lennox was acknowledged from time to time with a gruff nod, electronic grunts or quick greetings in English. The two college girls, however, only received a few waves, and most of those went to Kate, who was so _clearly_ interested in these creatures.

Jess was busily avoiding eye contact while still keeping an eye on her surroundings when she saw him.

The tremendous angular mech was being escorted by two other sturdily-built machines, and all three were apparently just leaving from a meeting with the largest robot Jess had yet seen. Large as the first bot was, though, it was the first that held her attention. She knew him.

Grumbling to the two holding him, the robot looked up and met Jess's eyes. And they both froze – girl and robot.

The two escorting the angular robot tugged at his arms impatiently, and the fourth looked to see what had captured the first's attention, but the angular robot ignored them all. Shrieking like shredding metal, he lunged free of the two on his arms. Jess backpedaled rapidly, too afraid of losing sight of the monster to turn her back in order to run. The closer he came, the more of her vision he filled, until he was looming over her, spitting grease and bearing down like a tremendous mountain of jagged metal.

Suddenly, he was yanked back, and as Jess struggled to reclaim her breath, the huge robot she had seen earlier pinned her attacker to the wall, shouting angrily at the aggressor. "Starscream! What is the meaning of this? Control yourself! Autobots, take him to the brig." Once the other two robots had pulled the villain from the wall and hauled him out of sight, the largest of them all, patterned in bright red and blue, turned with a puzzled frown.

Lennox was working on calming the two girls – Kate hadn't shared Jess's paranoia of turning and had sprinted halfway back down the hall – and hastily demanding to know if they were alright.

"I'm fine," Jess snapped. She yanked her loose collar higher, wondering if these robots could see the mark on her shoulder through her clothing. "It didn't even touch us."

"Optimus," Lennox said, turning to the robot, who was now approaching the little group of humans himself. "This is the girl Astrid contacted us about…and her roommate." Kate peeked over his shoulder like a blond sugar glider.

The robot, Optimus, knelt down to Jess's level, supporting himself with one massive hand that he clapped to the floor a little too close for comfort. She turned her eyes to his face with more trepidation than she was willing to admit.

"I am Optimus Prime," he said. "We need to talk."

A/N: Dang, I've missed writing. ^_^

Review Replies for those without accounts:

Xiao-yi: Wow, thanks for the review! I'm glad to hear that you enjoy this stuff, and I hope you continue to do so!

GodisGodiamnot: Thanks for the review, and you're welcome!


	14. Of Blubbering and Official Meetings

Disclaimer: If I owned Transformers I would not feel the urge to write fanfiction of it. Since I'm writing fanfic it shouldn't be hard to deduce that I don't own it.

A/N: All out of excuses. I've let my depression eat away at me for way too long. This fic WILL be finished by the end of the summer! Help me do it, folks! (I also apologize for an quality issues in this chapter. I wrote it in one night.)

Chapter 14: Of Blubbering and Official Meetings

The floor seemed to be millions of miles away. With each step her tremendous carrier took, Jess's world swayed from side to side, the walls sinking and rising like the view of the horizon from a ship. It didn't help the uneasy feeling of nausea that had been slowly growing ever since Astrid had pointed out that idiot tattoo on her shoulder.

She'd accepted the fact that she'd been a very stupid kid who had landed in more trouble than she could handle and suffered a horribly traumatic experience. She'd also accepted the fact that she would never knew what really happened to her – how she'd really gotten that scowling face on her shoulder – that all she would ever have was a child's fantasy, woven to preserve her delicate, child's psyche. There so many things she didn't want to remember – so many things her parents had paid expensive shrinks to help her _not_ remember.

Now her lies – and the lies of all those expensive therapists – were being stripped away and she was left with nothing but that fantasy. And that fantasy was turning into a reality too big for her to handle.

Mr. Big and Blue appeared to be some kind of commander, because no one stopped him with orders as he passed, and there were no chummy-chummy greetings, only respectful salutes and formal acknowledgements. He was also really, REALLY big. He towered over everything else in the base – even the other metal soldiers. The bad thing about all of this was that they arrived in what Jess assumed was his office in very short order. With little ado, he closed the door (and Jess suspected he locked it as well). He sat down – with a whole lot of whirs and puffs – and set Jess on the massive metal field he must call a desk.

He leaned back in the chair, giving Jess some desperately needed breathing room. His ridiculously blue eyes were kept steady on her though, and Jess prepared to go on the defensive. At the moment the machine was reminding her just a little too much of those wonderful father figures who could guilt the naughty student into a blubbering confession by just sitting there and looking wise and benevolent. Jess didn't blubber. She refused to blubber.

"I am Optimus Prime," he said.

"Yes," said Jess, "I got that bit already, is there anything else?"

"I am the leader of the Autobots, we are autonomous robotic organisms from the planet Cybertron."

"Alright, that's new. I mean, I figured out the 'autonomous robotic' bit, but the whole alien thing is new."

Those great big eyes shifted – just a fraction – but Jess caught the flicker of movement. He was analyzing her. That meant she was still on top. College student – 1. Leader of the autonomous robotic aliens – 0. Goody, goody.

"Do you understand what the symbol marked on your flesh represents?"

Jess opened her mouth, preparing for a nice slice of snarkiness with a side of sarcasm, but then her stomach decided that it had a better comeback. In a heartbeat she was on her hands and knees, spattering chunk bile all over the alien leader's shiny desk.

_She could smell crap and urine that had been building up for a week. Some of it was hers. There were other smells, too – the sort she'd never really smelled before, the sort that sent every animal instinct in her screaming. Her nose had come to replace her eyes. With so little light there was little to see – just the occasional glow of two giant red eyes peering over the top of the corral. Everyone else was dying, they were already dead, she was going to die, …_

It was a kid's nightmare, it wasn't real. It couldn't be real – because giant robots with red eyes didn't exist.

Jess felt a moving weight descend on her back, froze as it rubbed up and down her spine. Then she realized it was Mr. Blue. He was trying to comfort her – like a human would.

She blubbered. She blubbered and spit out everything.

.O.O.O.

Kate's eyes were busy. After the angry robot with the red eyes had charged her and Jess, Lennox had changed course and taken her to the cafeteria. Then he'd gotten distracted. While the military man stopped to talk with a few of his subordinates, Kate wandered on, absently drifting away from her assigned guard and quietly observing all of these new shapes and faces. These new creatures? robots? people? had such interesting faces.

By the time she realized that Lennox was not in fact walking a step or two behind her, Kate had no idea where she was. However, she found she didn't mind so much. Aside from sheer size, there seemed nothing terribly threatening about any of the soldiers – human or otherwise. Eventually, however, the size _did_ get to her, and Kate retreated to an open little corner where she could observe without the risk of falling underfoot. Her pocket sketchbook came out, along with a pencil.

She had no idea how much time she spent in the corner, but she only stopped copying down all the new faces and figures when a shadow dark enough to interrupt her work stopped over her. When she looked up, she found a tremendous black and white mechanical soldier peering down at her. It looked like he was frowning, but after drawing so many faces like his, Kate understood it as a thoughtful frown. The mouth moved, and she shrugged, jotting down a note beside her sketch of strange, many-faceted feet.

She held it up for the soldier to read. _I'm deaf, sorry._

The frown grew slightly less pronounced – more passive – and for a moment the soldier's blue eyes flickered. Then he looked down again, and his massive hands began to move.

.O.O.O.

Astrid had never been so happy to see Ratchet in her entire life. When the doctor-bot appeared, she lifted her arms like a small child and tried to silently plead 'Help me?' Jeremy had a death grip around her shoulders, and since he had successfully rebuffed Jenna from encroaching on his territory, she had gone for the legs. Now her best friend was rubbing her face against her knee, arms locked around Astrid's calves.

Ratchet huffed a sigh and complied with her prayer. He plucked her neatly from the midst of her living cage – much to the cage's protest – and set her in the crook of his elbow.

"There is a meeting in fifteen minutes – you are both required to attend," he said to Jeremy and Jenna. "Do not be late."

Squawking from the floor, Jenna cried, "He stole my squishy! Bring back my squishy!"

"I do believe you have been spending entirely too much time with members of another species," said Ratchet. "Astrid's return will be a good boost for your fading sanity. At the moment, however, I need to borrow her. Be on time for the meeting and you might be able to sit next to her during the proceedings."

Then he turned and left, and Astrid gleefully waved goodbye from her perch.

"Thank you, Ratchet," she said once the door had closed behind them.

"Do not thank me too soon," he said. "In my personal opinion you deserve far worse than a – what is the term Jenna uses? Ah – a good _glomping_. Of course, I am sure Sideswipe and Sunstreaker will be far less gentle than those two were."

"Sunny and Sides?" Astrid grabbed at her hair. It was tangled, and she felt twigs, leaves and dirt between her fingers. The shower at the Witwicky's had been utterly wasted thanks to Barricade's kidnapping. How was she supposed to face everyone from the old days when she couldn't even face a mirror? Ah, well, what was new, right? At least she had the worst three reunions over already. But there were still the twins, and Optimus, and Jazz, and… heavens, messy hair should be the least of her worries.

Ratchet stopped in the guest section of the human dormitories, depositing Astrid in front of an open human-sized door. "There are fresh clothes and bathing facilities inside," he said. "There is very little time before the meeting, but you look rather worse for wear, and some of the human nurses suggested…"

Astrid spun on her heel and kissed Ratchet's cheek, which was still low enough for her to reach with a little hop. "Ratchet. I love you. If you were human I would give you many beautiful babies, but as things stand I'll just bribe Jenna into giving you a wash and a wax, alright?"

Without another word she dashed inside and closed the door.

.O.O.O.

The meeting room was incredibly crowded. The seats had all been taken, and more personnel were lined up in rows against the wall. Jenna desperately wanted to point out what a tremendous fire hazard this was, but no one looked like they were in a great mood for jokes, so she performed a miracle and kept her mouth shut.

As per Ratchet's instructions, she and Jeremy had indeed arrived early, and now they sat flanking a slightly damp but far cleaner Astrid. Jazz was standing behind Jeremy, and Ratchet had chosen to keep near Astrid and Jenna after he dropped off his wet bundle.

The meeting hadn't even started and there had been a number of surprises. The first was the fact that when The Evil One's deaf roommate had appeared she had not been walking a step behind Lennox, but had come riding along in _Prowl's palm_. The girl – Kate – was animatedly talking with her hands, and – even more amazing – Prowl was answering in kind as much as he could with nods and single-handed gestures. Sides and Sunny had immediately started hooting about Prowl's new girlfriend and had rushed over to introduce themselves, but once they found that Kate had little interest in pranks, gore, and general childishness they had lost interest and wandered off. Jenna was actually somewhat worried about those two. They kept moving around the room, hovering, like they were waiting for the opportune moment to grab Astrid and make a run for it. Maybe that was why Ratchet was standing behind them like a metal statue.

The second surprise was that Optimus Prime himself had arrived bearing The Evil One in his palm. Her face had been blotchy and a little wet. Jenna thought her eyes looked a bit puffy. Privately, Jenna hoped the girl had been subjected to some sort of horrifying secret torture that the Autobots reserved for the very nastiest of Decepticons. Jess seemed too comfortable with the Prime, however, so Jenna grudgingly banished that beautiful hope.

Lastly, moments before the meeting started, Ironhide and Jolt had appeared with a restrained Mirage being led between them. One mech forfeited his seat for the prisoner, and both guards took up position behind the traitor. Jenna wasn't sure what to feel for him. She could sympathize with is motives, but the sight of the crusty scrapes and colorful bruises blossoming on Astrid's small amount of exposed skin was enough to make her hate the mech. Every bump and bruise was his fault. But they were also Barricade's. And Mirage hadn't meant to hurt her. He had meant to save her. It wasn't his fault that he was an idiot.

Or maybe it was. She hadn't decided yet.

"I have called this meeting in order to decide on actions to be taken in response to a new crisis that has been presented to us."

The natural authority of Prime's voice quieted even Jenna's restless thoughts and she leaned forward in her seat, stretching a hand instinctively towards Astrid, as if to double check that she was still with her. But that was a dumb move. She flushed and started to withdraw her hand, but then a palm settled over the back of her hand, and she looked to see Astrid smiling at her.

Jenna smiled back.

"Most of you are already aware of the fact that the Decepticon Starscream has requested – and been granted – sanctuary with the Autobots. The insurance he devised to protect his own life turned out to be the reason his own commander – Megatron – tried to eliminate him. Starscream claims to have created a dead man's switch that monitors his spark energy, a switch that is linked to an explosive device hidden in his abandoned laboratory here on Earth. Should the device detonate, Starscream believes it will cause enough damage to make the planet uninhabitable.

"What most of you are not aware of is the fact that Astrid Fenner has returned to us, and that she has brought with her a valuable informant. This young woman bears the Decepticon insignia on her shoulder. It was burned into her skin by Starscream himself approximately seven years ago when he held her and a number of other humans in his laboratory for the purpose of experimentation. He abandoned the site while Jess was still in his keeping, and, when he left, he left the primary door to the humans' pen unlocked. As the only remaining survivor, Jess escaped alone and rejoined her family.

"We believe that the facility where she was held is the same as the site of Starscream's bomb. This belief is supported by the fact that when he saw Jess on the base he attempted to dispose of her. Starscream will lose his leverage if we have a way to find and disable the threat behind his dead man's switch.

"In twelve hours a contingent of soldiers will escort us as Jess leads us to the laboratory. While we are gone Prowl will be put in command of the base. It is highly probable that the Decepticons will seek to find and eliminate Starscream while we are gone. Defenses must be prepared and held until the bomb has been destroyed.

"Are there any questions?"

The Cybertronians, Jenna mused, had yet to understand that humans did not do well with info-dumps. The blank, stalled expressions on the faces around the table backed up her assessment.

Leaning back in her chair, she folded her hands behind her head and said with a grin, "Never a dull moment, eh?"

Once the humans had caught up they began posing questions to the base commander, and the mechs filled the silence until they did. Volunteers offered to go on the mission and Jenna saw Prowl taking careful notes of which soldiers had offered and which would be held at the base as defenders.

Then Prime spoke again. "Before we depart, there is one issue which must be immediately resolved. Mirage, Autobot saboteur, is accused of treachery against the Autobot cause and collaboration with a Decepticon to the detriment of a human ally."

Jenna felt the very air around Astrid tense up.

"A trial must be held."

A/N: Reviews? Pretty please? I don't deserve them, but I still want them.

Replies to those without accounts:

GodisGodiamnot: Hello again! Don't worry, communicating on FB is fine. If I didn't think it was I wouldn't have agreed to friend you. I hope your own drama has somewhat eased up by this point in time, though the problem with drama is that it tends to make a rather sticky mess that takes a long time to clean up. Writing does give me a lot of pleasure, and I hope taking a break to read this sort of fluff helps you relax, too.


	15. Of Trials and Foamy Soap

Disclaimer: Yeah, Transformers was written and is owned by men. I am female. Do the math.

A/N: I have, like, a week and a half to finish this puppy. I'm planning on pulling two REALLY long chapters after this me luck!

_**Keep the reviews coming! They feed my muse and then it poops out story for us all!**_

Chapter 15: Of Trials and Foamy Soap

The room was silent. Jenna wondered how long it had been since the Autobots had been forced to deal with such a serious offence – or if they'd ever even had to deal with something like treason before. She nearly smacked herself on the head. They must have dealt with traitors before. They were a military operation that was older than most Earthly civilizations. Doubtless they had put turn-coats and spies on trial before. Doubtless they had already established punishments for such offenders.

She risked a glance at Astrid. Her friend's face was rigid and the peaches half of her 'peaches and cream' complexion must have gotten plucked, because she looked about as white as milk.

"Evidence against the accused has been accumulated and will now be presented," Optimus rumbled. During all of her time spent in the Autobots' headquarters, and after all of the official meetings she'd attended, Jenna had learned to recognize Optimus Prime's different tones. There was the 'let's do our duty and get this over with' tone, the 'you are busted five ways to Sunday, fragger' tone (which was usually reserved for Decepticons and both sets of twins), and the 'I am in command and severely displeased – beware my awesome wrath' tone. He had others, of course, but those were the three he typically used for official functions. Mirage had just been granted Tone 3. Jenna wasn't sure whether or not that qualified as a good thing. She was pretty sure she'd rather have a quick and painless death than have to face that tone herself.

Rising from his seat, Prowl activated a screen. The screen remained blank for a moment, and then the official log of an Autobot comm. system began scrolling down. _Autobot_ _Mirage, Saboteur, First Class, receiving text missive, recorded image attached_.

The entire room watched as the entire relay between Mirage and Barricade played out on the screen. It was only interrupted occasionally for security footage and computer logs to back up the fact that Mirage had indeed abused the faith of his fellow Autobots as he gathered and granted classified information for a vicious Decepticon.

There were no accusing stares. No angry glances shot from the corner of eyes. Everyone was focused on the screen. There was no point damning the soldier with their condescension when the evidence had already done such a bang up job of it all, Jenna thought.

When the 'evidence' finally ended a bit of tension seemed to leave the room. It had not been pleasant. Everyone was glad to have it over with.

"We will now listen to evidence and testimony in defense of the accused," Prime intoned.

The silence was deafening. Jenna almost wished she'd brought her prized crickets with her. They were always good for breaking those awkward silences…

Then there was a whisper of noise – the tap of palms gently clapped against the table, a rustle of moving cloth, the squeak of chair rollers on a polished floor. It took Jenna several moments to realize that, next to her, Astrid was standing. Her posture was slumped, arched almost, her shoulders raised protectively, her weight half-resting on her palms. Even Astrid's eyes were lowered. It was a position that screamed both defensiveness and defenselessness. Jenna's tongue flattened itself against the roof of her mouth and she was suddenly afraid of swallowing it.

"I would like to speak," Astrid said.

"Astrid Fenner," said Prime. "You are acknowledged. What do you have to say in defense of the accused?"

For a few moments Astrid was silent. Beside her, Jenna held herself stiffly upright, straining to somehow support her friend and to simultaneously stay in step with her. But why had Astrid risen? Of course she'd defend Mirage. After all, the two were supposed to be bound together, right? But, then, she _had_ left him. She had left all of them. But she would defend Jeremy if he was in Mirage's shoes, wouldn't she? Jenna wasn't sure how much to hope for and how much to fear.

"I do not doubt that Mirage has… done the things you have shown us," she said. Several of the 'bots shifted, and the silence after Astrid's comment was filled with puffs and whirs. "And I do not doubt that he did not seek to betray the Autobots. I have no doubt that he was deceived, and I do not think that you doubt this, either. His actions were wrong, but they did not stem from a treasonous will."

She stopped. Her face looked panicked, like she wasn't sure what she ought to do, or had already done. Jenna imagined that she could see all of the words Astrid was searching for making a bulging lump at the base of her throat.

Prime waited. Patient as ever.

"He was trying to save me. He is only in this situation due to my own misconduct, and, therefore, I request that the blame for his actions be shared between the two of us."

Murmurs immediately rose around the room. The humans leaned in to whisper and shake their heads to each other. The mechs made their funny dial-up noises and motioned wildly with their gargantuan hands. Mirage, for the first time since he'd been brought into the room, looked up from the table. Astrid did not.

Prime, Jenna thought, actually looked pleased with this development. _She_ was not. Or, then again, maybe she was. Maybe Astrid would be doomed to stay on base for the rest of her pathetically short human life to atone for leading one of the Nearly-Eternal-Shiny-Ones astray. At least Astrid wouldn't be able to pick up any more stray college students that way.

"What actions have you taken that you would qualify as misconduct, Miss Fenner?" asked the oh-so-powerfully-huge-and-more-than-slightly-smug-sounding-Optimus Prime.

_You booger_, thought Jenna, _you, me and all of our cousins already know what she's gonna say. Manipulative UFO. _

Astrid looked like she was going to be sick. "I betrayed the Autobots first. I abandoned everyone."

_Wonder of wonders,_ Jenna thought, _is Astrid Fenner taking responsibility? Naw…_

"My actions enabled Barricade to do what he did, and I alone am responsible."

_I do believe in miracles, I do, I do. Maybe fairies are next._

"Even if that is the case," said Optimus, "the crimes you accuse yourself of are nothing that can be punished under our laws or yours" – (_Read 'Shiny laws' or 'squishy laws,' _Jenna thought) – "and it is therefore beyond my power to take any punitive action against you."

Astrid looked ready to argue, even sat forward in her seat, but Prime wasn't finished yet.

"_However_," he said carefully, "any bans, restrictions or tasks you choose for yourself as fitting punishment for your self-declared crimes will be honored by all members of this base. Consider carefully. Once this current crisis is over we will hear your decision."

Jenna was displeased. She drummed a staccato rhythm on the table, her nails falling in wave after wave of tiny little taps. Maybe if she worked at it, she could stir up an entire _ocean_ of annoyingness. Then everyone would be as ticked as she was. Prime was going to just sit around and _wait?_ Clap her in irons! Put her on the no-fly list! Implant a tracking device in the delicate tissues of her brain where no human technology could remove it! Don't give her _options_ for crying out loud! She'd go home again and never come back!

Exhausted by her sudden fury and her abuse of exclamation marks, Jenna quit her tapping. She tried to shove back from the table (the first necessary step in the act of storming out of the room) but she found her way impeded by a pair of large metallic legs. Legs that clanged a bit when she struck them. Tilting her head up and back, she saw Ratchet's terrifying visage glaring down at her.

It took a moment to swallow the lump in her throat.

Oh.

Oops.

Meanwhile, Prime continued with the sentencing of the criminal he _did_ have authority over.

"It is not the custom of the Autobots to execute their criminals, and this is not a custom I choose to break now, especially considering the motive of the crime. However, action must still be taken in the face of treason.

"Autobot Mirage, you are hereby demoted four ranks, and until I decide otherwise you shall remain in the brig, or under escort when your regular duties necessitate moving about the base."

Most of the military boys around the table seemed surprised. Seriously, what were they expecting? The rack? This was Optimus-freaking-Prime, he who could not squish a butterfly without suffering from horrible, crushing guilt for a good eon or so. This was one of his _guys_, one of his guys who was trying to protect a delicate little _squishy_. If the little treachery thing hadn't been thrown in Jenna had little doubt that the big bad commander would be kneeling next to a sniffling Mirage, offering tissues… or not… Jenna had yet to see a Cybertronian suffer from a runny nose. Well, had to be a first time for everything, right? Anyway, Mirage was probably doing a bang-up job punishing himself already if the imaginary weight pulling his head down was anything to go by.

With that, the meeting was dismissed, and Jenna took her place next to Astrid's side as they drifted off towards the medbay. Jeremy marched off to attend to his 'official duties' which involved attending a further meeting that would plan out the details of the She-Demon's Special Field Trip. Prowl stopped next to them and deposited Kate in their little cluster. Apparently he thought that all young human females were automatically meant to stick together, and that by depositing his new pet with them she would be well taken care of until he could pick her up after work. Jenna wondered what Kate would do in a hamster ball. Probably just sit in the bottom and sketch how the world looked through hard plastic.

Ratchet walked behind the three girls, careful to herd them in the right direction and out of the 'important people's' way. It was a good thing he was there. Jenna sure as heck wasn't paying attention.

When they reached the medbay Astrid excused herself and ducked into her room. The expression on her face very clearly said 'I need time to think, so back off, pretty please.' But Jenna was in a mood, and she wanted to make sure Astrid didn't think the wrong thoughts and take off back for her cozy little life in the States, so she moved to follow her. Ratchet's hand in her face was a bit of a problem, though.

"There are parts to sort, youngling," he said.

He was then treated to an earful of all the Cybertronian curses Jenna had learned from her least favorite pair of twins. She still had to sort the parts. After a few minutes, she started grumbling.

"Shuck all the boring crap on the squishy – feh, lazy old 'bot."

"I do not appreciate it when you use such a derogatory term as 'squishy' to refer to yourself and your race in general."

"And I don't appreciate sorting through all this rusty old stuff. Are you even gonna use these? They aren't exactly up to your usual standards, you know…"

"Jenna." Ratchet bent down to her level, and big, glowy, blue eyes suddenly took up Jenna's world. "I am serious about this."

She chucked a half-rusted doohickey in the scrap pile. "Why?"

"Because that is the term the Decepticons use."

"Y-eaaaahh?"

"It is rude, and incredibly demeaning."

"So? We trade insults all the time – rusty, fritzed, old doctor-bot."

Those great big eyes got even bigger as Ratchet leaned in. It took a lot for Jenna to avoid backpedaling right off the counter. As it was she tripped over the previously discarded doohickey. She glanced away from Ratchet long enough to glare at it – sending silent promises of a fate worse than scrap-heaps for the erring discard.

"You are our closest allies, and I do not allow for any Decepticon slur to be used against my allies. Am I understood?"

Jenna popped to her feet and offered a rapid salute. "YES SIR! Now back off, dude, you're popping my bubble."

A little light blinked on near Ratchet's optics, and Jenna realized that his scanner had been engaged. "I was unaware of this physiological trait. Where is this bubble?"

"Ratch – seriously – just forget I even mentioned it."

.O.O.O.

Foamy soap could wash away the blues of the world, Astrid was convinced. After she left her friends in the hallway she showered all over again, stealing frothing heaps of suds from the soap dispenser next to the sink. There was body wash provided, of course, but it wasn't so wonderfully foamy, and, besides, foamy soap was the next best thing to chocolate.

She might have stayed under the showerhead forever, but eventually there was a knock on her bathroom door. And a voice. "Uh, Astrid? You alright in there?"

Jeremy.

Grudgingly Astrid turned off the water and sighed as the last delicious drops of warm plopped onto and slid off of her toes.

"I'm fine. Getting out now," she called.

It was a good thing she'd brought a change of clothes with her into the bathroom. No one wanted to see or be seen by their sibling in a towel. It would take an awful lot of foamy soap to recover from something like that.

When she emerged from the steamy little room she found Jeremy waiting for her on the end of the bed. "Hey."

"Hey." Astrid went to the mirror and finger-combed her hair into a position that wouldn't look like Medusa's snakes when it dried. "I thought you had a meeting."

"I did. It was over about fifteen minutes ago."

"Oh." She stopped to think for a moment. "So what's been decided about the 'away party?'"

"Optimus, Jazz and Wheeljack are heading out along with Lennox and twenty four men. Prowl and Epps are being left in charge of the base."

"Then I assume you're one of the twenty four since wherever Jazz goes his squishy goes, too."

"Yeah."Now it appeared to be Jeremy's turn to think. He stopped to chew the inside of his cheek and Astrid wondered if he still got canker sores from that particular habit. "Speaking of Autobots and their squishies… have you figured out what you're going to do after all of this?"

"A shower can fix many ills, Jeremy, but it can't solve world hunger," Astrid laughed. "Or universal stupidity."

"Optimus wants you to stay, you know. So does Prowl. And just about everyone else who knew you – before. None of us get why you left. And Jenna's fun and all, but, you know, she doesn't, can't, you know, do all of the same stuff you do, can do. You know?"

"Yeah, I know. She looks kinda frayed."

"She's been frayed for a long time, sis, you just never noticed because she was your best friend."

"Frayed is different from insane. It's like she's being worn the wrong way."

Jeremy glanced at his watch and stood. "You could fix that you know."

"I know it, but I haven't quite decided it for sure yet." She gave him a smile before he left. "Thanks for stopping to talk to me."

"Sure."

The moment the door was closed she went back to the shower. She needed more foamy soap.

.O.O.O.

Barricade had learned to hate Mirage a very long time ago. It had been before the war had even begun. Gifted in manners, wealth and status, Mirage had been one of many Barricade found it easy to ally himself against in the games of social interactions – not that they frequently moved in the same circles at all. What bothered him was Mirage's lack. The mech lacked focus, drive, devotion, passion. He seemed as cool and detached as his airy paint scheme implied. To be gifted with so much but to actually have so little was unforgivable.

Unlike the Autobots, the Decepticons never deluded themselves about the 'niceness' of their actions in war, and that was why Barricade had found it so easy to relate to the other mechs in their ranks. His bloodlust was no longer tolerated, but rather encouraged. His passion and skill made him valuable. But not so Mirage. After eons of debate and vacillation, the social elite had chosen to partner with the Autobots, but even then his devotion had been anything but devoted. Of course, his only real use was due to some impressive and unique upgrades rather than any particular skills or drives. So he still went between bases – receiving orders in one, sabotaging the other – and rose in the Autobot ranks.

Mirage was perfectly soulless and the fact that Barricade would never be able to toy with and ruin him as he could nearly every other mech in the universe bothered him. It gave Mirage an advantage, and he hated him for it.

But then Mirage had come to Earth.

The squishy was the best thing that could ever have happened to the mech, Barricade supposed, and that only showed how weak and aimless the poor slagger was in the first place. But, still, the soft little organic gave him the opening he needed to make his dream come true. Now that Mirage had finally discovered something to awaken his deeper interests, Barricade had an opportunity to take it from him.

He was going to wreck that slagger, and he was going to use the squishy do it.

He hunted through his lists of contacts until he found what he needed. It was time to rejoin the ranks of his brethren. He would ride the tide of war to Mirage's door.

.O.O.O.

The entire base was preparing for the assault of the century. Each and every serviceman or servicewoman Jess passed with her entourage of giant alien robots and jar heads moved with clear determination. By the time they reached the plane she'd seen a majority of the base, and she was fairly sure that there were no slackers in the whole place – no guys playing cards or buddies chatting in a corner. Jess had had a cousin in the military, and from everything she'd heard, base-dwellers – like these good folks – didn't do much. Sure, they all did their jobs, but between battles, inspections and drills there was very little to do. All of the activity here could mean only one thing: an impending confrontation. And Optimus Prime had only selected a small troop of twenty-odd soldiers and three mechs (himself included) to go on her little 'mission.'

There had to be something else going on. From what she'd been told, her old enemy's little science play-place had something big that might go 'boom,' and Jess got the distinct impression from all of the running around that the good guys weren't the only ones who knew about that little secret. If she was guessing right, then everyone back on the farm was going to be receiving some guests soon.

There was gonna be a fight. A big one.

Despite her protests, Optimus Prime insisted that the safest place for Kate at the moment was in the middle of the battle-field-to-be. Apparently the bad guys – 'Decepticons' – had gone after civilians before, and if Barricade had rejoined their official ranks, then they would know about Astrid Fenner's two new friends. There was a fair chance that they would be in greater danger out of the line of fire.

How long had Astrid lived in this madness?

The plane was a lot bigger than any commercial jets Jess had traveled on before, and the roar of the engine was incredibly loud. Like the commercial flights, though, Jess got to enjoy the rough massage of vibrating metal and insulation. Her harness pressed her closer to the all-consuming grumble than a paltry lap belt did, though, and it would have been very easy to rest her head against the wall and let the buzzing shake all the thoughts out of her brain. Tempting. Too bad Lennox kept asking her questions about the abandoned lab. He had good reason to ask, Jess knew, but that didn't alleviate her irritation or tension. The man only stopped once a very deep and Cybertronian-sounding voice _asked_ him to via walkie talkie.

Jess considered glomping the shiny truck once she was free again. Then she remembered that she wasn't Kate or Astrid. A simple thanks would suffice.

**_Feed the starving authors! Leave a review!_**

****Replies to those without accounts:

GodisGodiamnot: Hello again! I'm glad it's a good escape - it is for me, too. I'm doing fairly well and intend on getting even better. How are you? P.S. I smile whenever I see you've liked something on Facebook.

If I only had a name: Nice name, I likes it muches. Wow! Thanks! I love Jenna, too. I don't think I'll ever do a full story on her, just because I've about exhausted my Transformers run for now, but I MIGHT do a one shot if there's enough interest...

Lania: Thanks for the review! That's a tremendous compliment and I am very grateful. I hope you see when I put this up so you can do some new reading instead of just rereading!


	16. Of Elephants and a Little Bit of Stupid

A/N: Wow, got shanked by life. Still here, though, and only one chapter left! I will respond to the regular reviewers sometime this weekend! Thanks for staying with me!

Chapter 16: Of Elephants and a Little Bit of Stupid

Astrid really shouldn't have been surprised when she walked into Jenna's room. It shouldn't have surprised her that her old friend still had the lava lamp she had bought as a teenager glowing in all of its goopiness on the dresser. She shouldn't have been surprised by the _Happy Days_ and _Doctor Who_ posters covering the walls. She REALLY shouldn't have been surprised by the stuffed elephant sitting on the pillow. But, still.

After all that had happened, Jenna was still a kid at heart. Where Astrid had surrendered to the weight of her worries, Jenna had fended hers off with 60's lighting and plushy accomplices.

And Jenna was waiting for her, right next to the stuffed elephant.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to come seeking my lair," said Jenna.

"Uh, yeah." Careful of the elephant, Astrid took a seat beside her on the bed. Globs of mustard-yellow 'lava' melted together and pulled apart in their sea of topsy-turvy tranquility, and Astrid stared at them for inspiration. "So, um, how have you been?"

"Well, seeing as how my best friend abandoned me and I've become the personal slave of Doc Hatchet, not bad."

"Sorry."

"Apologies are nice, thank you, I'll add it to my collection. If you want to give me what I actually had on my wish list, though, you'll decide to sentence yourself to eternal servitude to the Autobot-human alliance so I'll have some company of my own intelligence level."

Astrid smirked. "I resent that."

"Yes, well, you resemble it, too." For a second Jenna joined Astrid as she raptly observed the sluggish dance of the lava lamp. Then she grabbed up her elephant and fell back on the pillows. "Man, when I signed up for this whole friendship program I didn't realize there were escape clauses."

"There aren't."

"Then why did you take off?"

"It's complicated."

"No, sweetie, trigonometry is complicated. This is just stupid."

Astrid wondered if she could vaporize lava lamp goop by glaring at it. "It's not stupid."

"Sure it is."

"No it isn't! I didn't leave because I wanted to."

"Did a creeper tie you up and hide you in his basement this whole time?"

"No…"

"Then you stayed away because you wanted to."

Finally turning away from the lava lamp, Astrid glared at her oldest friend. "It wasn't that simple, Jenna. I missed you guys."

"Naturally. But it was your choice. And I never claimed it wasn't simple, just not complicated."

"That's a contradiction."

"So are you. You say you want to come back and see us, but you never one to know one." Jenna rolled over onto her elbows, giving Astrid a flat stare. "What happened between you and Mirage?"

Maybe it wasn't so complicated after all. "We had a fight."

"About…?"

"A guy I dated."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, I gue…"

"No, that's not what I meant. I meant – SERIOUSLY? You've been all dark and emo because of some freaking _lovers' spat?_" Jenna leapt up, grabbing her pillows – and also the elephant.

Pillows and elephant began raining blows on Astrid's head.

"GET OUT OF MY ROOM, YOU MORON!"

.O.O.O.

It took an hour for Jenna to calm down, and by that time Astrid was long gone. Goodness knew where the girl had gone, but Jenna was still to peeved to care. Of _all_ the _stupid_, _inane, girly_ things! A spat! And over some guy Astrid hadn't even thought to name, which was a clear sign there had never been anything resembling a real relationship between the two. It had always been Astrid's weakness to add competition to a relationship. She'd been like that ever since they compared lunches in elementary school.

All of her pent up frustration had to be put to use in some way to prevent a small nuclear explosion, and so Jenna found herself sorting spare parts in the medbay… again. Wouldn't Ratchet be thrilled? All his drilling and brainwashing had paid off. She was sorting parts as a recreational pastime now.

"Nice. I have become a lacky," she muttered. Grabbing what looked like a very large thimble, Jenna tottered over to the nearest oil drum. She dipped her finger in the slick black stuff and doodled what she hoped was a passable villain's mustache on her upper lip. Then she popped the thimble on her head, which she immediately regretted. She wished she had gingerly lowered it instead.

"What _are_ you doing?"

She spun around so quickly she almost lost of painfully arranged hat. "Dressing the part of the villainous lacky, of course. Look! I'm separating parts in my spare time – and of course the whole base knows that you're the mastermind behind all evil in the universe, so that would certainly make me the Igor to your Dr. Frankenstein… Hm. Maybe I should have put some lumps on my back instead of utilizing the old mustache trick. Oh, well. Live and learn."

"Jenna."

"You rang?"

"I'm glad you're finally coming to understand your place," Ratchet said – fairly imperiously, actually. He looked down his flat-ish nose at her. "I plan on utilizing your various skills for many more decades, regardless of whether Astrid Fenner has returned." He turned to leave. "You have your own place, after all. Now get back to work… minion."

Jenna stood to attention and grinned. "Yes, sir!" Then she realized what she'd just answered to. "Hey, wait a minute!"

But the cranky old doc bot was already gone, leaving her alone with a thimble for a hat, oil for a mustache and an awfully large pile of parts to sort. "Could've at least given me a hand, you nefarious super-villain, you." Then she chucked a human-sized wrench at the door. "Heck of a time to develop a sense of humor, you jerk!"

.O.O.O.

It wasn't easy to ignore the first Decepticon scout spotted just out of range of the base's weapons. He made no effort to hide himself, flying in wide, sweeping arcs and circling around the bubble of protection provided by the massive guns scattered across the island. He showed more caution than Starscream might have shown in his position, but that wasn't say much.

Anyone not looking up at the sky soon turned to follow their comrades' line of sight. Soon everyone outside was watching the gleaming silver beetle as it buzzed just out of striking distance. It hovered on the edge of vision, and its engines growled just loud enough to be heard on the tensely silent base.

There was an almost audible sigh when it left. Several of the humans slumped. Most of the Autobots rechecked their weapons.

"Dang, man," Epps said, sidling over to Prowl and keeping an eye on the spot where the Decepticon had last been seen. "Prime needs to _haul_ it. Just sittin' here waiting for a whoopin' doesn't sound so good."

"I agree," said Prowl. "If the team is still on schedule, they should be approaching their first landing point within the hour. From there it is only a short distance to where the human girl believes she was held hostage."

"And whadda we do if it's the wrong lab?"

"That, as Ironhide would say, is what all the big guns are for. We might need them regardless of the success of Prime's mission. The Decepticons could very well see this as an opportune moment of weaknes."

"This sucks man," Epps said. "This really sucks. Next time Lennox gets to play Red Rover with the 'Cons, and I get to go treasure-hunting for the secret laboratory."

And then Epps' day got worse. Skids and Mudflap came careening across the tarmac, all squealing tires and burning rubber. "We got problems, boss-men!"

"Report," Prowl ordered.

"Screamer's gone, yo! While we were oglin' his buddy up there, he slipped out o' the brig, and now he ain't nowhere."

In the next second a sonic boom echoed over Diego Garcia, and they all looked up to see the tail end of Starscream vanishing in the distance.

"Figures the fragger would show us his aft just when we need a bargaining chip the most."

.O.O.O.

The brig was not a popular location. It was also well away from the main routes for foot traffic through the base halls. It was very quiet, and he missed the sounds of regular activity, even if the activity had nothing to do with him.

Mirage realized that he was lonely. That was really part of the punishment of being confined in the brig, though. Loneliness and boredom. Funny, though, that he should be bored when the rest of the base was busily milling about in an effort to prepare for an all-out Decepticon attack. There was no doubt in his mind though that all their attempts were in vain if Megatron personally joined the assault. Only Prime could best the Decepticon commander, and Mirage had no doubt that the vicious mech would savor such an opportunity as this to shred a few Autobots – and humans.

If only Astrid didn't have to wait until after the current crisis was averted to deliver her own sentence. Now she would be in the line of fire once again, and while Mirage had always been impressed by the girl's ability to both attract and survive the very worst conditions, he had no doubt that her luck would run out one day.

And this day was as good as the next.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, just looking at you makes me depressed."

Mirage jerked his head up and rapidly focused his optics on the little human standing on the free side of his cell wall.

"Astrid," he said. Her name felt funny in his mouth after such a long absence. "What are you doing here?"

"What does it look like?" She held her arms out at her sides and twirled. "I'm your big burly escort. Where you go, I go."

For a moment he just stared. "That is not possible."

She looked slightly put out. "Why's that?"

"Prowl would never allow it."

"Ask him for yourself. He gave me full permission. Glad to have another pair of free hands to help man the walls, I imagine."

Of course, they both knew that was not the issue. "You hate me, Astrid."

That got her to pause for a moment.

"When I left and got a different apartment, well – I might have been just a little stupid." Quickly, she added, "You were, too, but so was I. Setting up the age-old 'if you like me, follow me' test was the worst, vainest idea I've ever acted on. It makes sense that you wouldn't have understood what I was trying to accomplish."

"So… you wanted me to follow you? Is this not considered 'stalking' in your culture?"

"Not if the girl actually wants the guy to come after her. And it wouldn't have been stalking. We would have talked and in my happy fantasy version of the future everything would have been even better than before."

Mirage pondered this. "But things are not better. They are possibly worse."

"Yeah. Like I said, I might have been a little stupid."

"Perhaps, but… perhaps things might still be… better."

.O.O.O.

Playing twenty questions with a giant alien robot (who also turned into a car… a car Jess was riding in) was a whole new world of weirdness. While she was grateful that the Autobot leader had drafted her as his riding buddy for the trip from the airport to the laboratory – mostly because it meant she would NOT be riding with Jeremy Fenner – the brutishly big 'bot never seemed to run out of questions. All of the questions were also extremely relevant to the current endeavor as well, so it wasn't like she could just tell him to mind his own bee's wax.

She had just taken fifteen minutes reciting the epic narrative of the five different therapists her parents had sent her to, explaining everything with pain-staking detail so as to avoid any unnecessary questions from her ride. No dice.

"You claim that none of your kind believed your story?" he asked. "Not even your family unit?"

"Nobody. All it took was one of the cops' trauma experts explaining to the world that I'd created an alternate history to replace what REALLY happened and no one believed a blessed word I said. Even my goldfish gave me looks sometimes. Seriously, though, what sort of sick twisted kid would invent something like THAT to make herself feel better? Really?"

"Apparently, they believed you to be one such child," the radio commented. "Perhaps it was in connection with your strange affinity for black. I understand that this is considered a rather depressing color for humans and that wearing it frequently indicates that the wearer is either making some manner of social statement or is in some way depressed."

"Hey, now, no ripping on my clothes. I like them very much, and, just so you know, I didn't start wearing them until several years after the whole lab rat thing." Jess crossed her arms and glared out the window. "I was already the resident freak. Might as well play the part and enjoy myself, right? Besides, black is slimming."

"Your vocal patterns indicate that you are not pleased with this 'part.'"

Wow. Robots were thick. "Find me fifty high school girls who enjoy being (falsely) regarded as the unfortunate victim of some sort of kidnapping sexual predator and I'll eat my Chucks."

The truck's engine rumbled, and Jess assumed it was laughing. "I believe Ratchet would disapprove. Canvas and rubber are not compatible with your race's digestive tract."

"Ratchet?"

"Our medic."

"Nice name."

"He is also the supervisor and friend of Jenna. I believe you are acquainted."

Jess made a gagging motion, throwing in as many sickly sound effects as she could manage without actually heaving. "Ugh, that girl is the devil."

"I believe that she shares similar thoughts about you. I do not understand adolescent human females."

"Takes one to know one."

With a puff and a whine, the brakes kicked in and the truck came to a gradual halt. "We are here," her ride announced.

Beyond the window, Jess could see an awful lot of trees. She remembered that. Then she remembered how big some of her companions were. This would not be a fun stroll.

A/N: You know the drill.

Replies to those without accounts:

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